


The Die is Cast

by dimlylitbathroom



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimlylitbathroom/pseuds/dimlylitbathroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To secure the uneasy peace between Asgard and Jotunheim, Loki is sent by Laufey to aid in Asgard’s war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fractures and Fissures

“You wish me to tell him?” 

“You weren’t summoned for the pleasure of your company Thrym.” 

Thrym gritted his teeth at the unctuous tone but refused to turn to the one who had spoken. 

“I speak to the king” he replied. 

Thrym could see Gangr from the corner of his eye, leaning as far forward in his chair as he could as he tried to capture Thrym’s gaze. Gangr ignored Thrym’s words, prattling on though Thrym’s eyes didn’t leave the king. 

“We know how _fond_ you are of the little whelp Thrym.” 

There was a grumble of displeasure from Laufey and the rodent Gangr skittered back in his seat a little. 

“Apologies, sire, apologies” he murmured, eyes downcast.

Thrym turned his lip up in distaste. 

“By turns I can hear the venom and the grease dripping from your words Gangr. But which thoughts are your own?” he asked in clipped tones. 

“Spare me your delusions of superiority Thrym, we all know why you defend him.”

“Because he is a prince and your speech is treasonous?” Thrym shot back, finally turning to glare at Gangr upon his chair. 

“Because you worry that if he goes you’ll never get to fuck him again” Gangr snarled back, spit flying from his tongue. 

Thrym drew in a breath to respond but was stopped by the rumbling voice of Laufey. 

“Stop this” he said, speech slow and eyes uninterested. 

The replies that danced on the tip of Thrym’s tongue _(why do you let him speak of your son so? Do you think the same? Do you hope he never returns? Do you care for anything anymore?)_ died as he looked at the king’s blank face. 

Any conversation would serve no purpose save setting his blood afire. Thrym had better uses for his time. 

“I apologise sire” was all he said, quietly and with the slightest of glance at the grinning Gangr. 

He drew a breath before asking again. “You wish me to tell him?” 

“We do” Laufey replied and for a moment there seemed a hint of that same ironclad will that had ruled Jotunheim for millennia. But it faded just as quickly and the look Laufey directed at him was as indifferent as before. 

“Tell him, then bid him come to us.” 

Thrym wondered if there was a way for him to escape it. Maybe he could run. Maybe he could leave, abandon his shackles and never return to this cruel, accursed hall. Thrym inclined his head and turned away, a smile playing across his lips. 

What pointless thoughts. Loki had always had the power to leave. 

* * *

The wastes of Jotunheim held a certain stark beauty when viewed from above. This is where they were bearable, where the unforgiving landscape and the endless distances that taunted him were something close to perfect. White and blue and entirely uniform, from above Jotunheim was not monstrous. 

Loki couldn’t stay there forever though. He had avoided Laufey for too long as it was and though he no longer feared any of his father’s punishments, he would rather avoid endless droning questions about where he was and why he was there from the king’s lackeys. With luck, it would be only Laufey himself he had to deal with. His father alone never enquired about where he had been or why.

_Because he doesn’t care_ Loki whispered to himself but the thought only brought a smile to his lips at his own pettiness. 

The days when the thought would have torn and shredded his mind were long gone, a distant memory like a war wound that was long healed but still ached in a storm. 

Loki landed carefully on the windowsill of his room. He stayed a raven for a few moments, looking squarely at the overgrown giant hunching in his quarters and picking idly through his things. 

A shimmer in the air and Loki was standing in front of Thrym nude, snatching the crystal he had clutched between his monstrous hands. 

“Get away from that you lumbering oaf, there’s nothing in this room crude enough to survive your handling” Loki snapped as he placed the crystal carefully back on its shelf. 

Thrym grinned and the sharp edge of it brought a smile to Loki’s lips. The giant was a brute but Loki was almost fond of him. 

“Nothing in this room crude enough to survive my handling?” he asked, voice gravelly in his chest as his grin became a leer and he reached out for Loki, pulling him close. 

“Our memories differ little one” he said, his chest rumbling against Loki where they pressed together. “I remember you very crude indeed.” 

He pawed at Loki’s chest and Loki allowed it, limp in his arms as he let his head fall back, revealing his neck to Thrym. 

“I was just responding” Loki replied, a smile in his voice as the larger giant ran hands across his body before kneeling. “Crude for crude, rough for rough, blood for blood.” 

“Ah, and there was certainly blood” Thrym murmured, his face buried at the juncture of Loki’s hip and thigh. He inhaled deeply. 

“When was the last time you were taken?” he whispered, looking up to meet Loki’s eyes. 

“You know full well when I was last taken” Loki hissed back, pushing Thrym’s face away as the kneeling giant leant forward to run his tongue across Loki’s skin. 

“Ah Loki, don’t be like that” Thrym replied, gathering Loki closer again and grinning when the smaller giant didn’t resist. Thrym began panting as memories of last time invaded his mind. 

“Change for me?” he whispered. 

“You do not want me as I am?” Loki replied. 

Loki’s breaths were shorter but the look he was directing at his kneeling lover was clear and unclouded by lust. 

“I do not wish to hurt you” Thrym replied, sensing Loki’s reluctance and trying to change it by running his tongue from the base of Loki’s half-hard cock to the tip. 

“Persuade me” Loki said. 

“Persuade you to perform a simple change to stop yourself being hurt? Quite the feat” Thrym replied.

“Maybe I want it to hurt” Loki hissed, grabbing Thrym’s head and yanking it forward even as he thrust with his hips. 

Thrym grinned and opened his mouth, the taste of Loki on his tongue making him almost light headed. He growled as there was a knock on the door and he turned just as Loki called out “Enter.” 

The missives hid their surprise well but their gazes were drawn to Loki’s crotch, his erection jutting from his hips, and the trail of spit that had fallen from Thrym’s mouth at the sound of the door and now decorated his chin.

“Well?” Loki asked, not trying to hide his panting. “What is it?” 

“Your presence is requested” was all the guard said and when Loki nodded, they disappeared and the door slammed behind them. 

“Did you hear them coming?” Thrym asked from the floor, his blood still pounding and Loki’s scent still invading his senses. 

“What would you like to hear?” Loki’s grin was like a knife. “That I was so lost in pleasure I couldn’t have sensed Odin Allfather himself at the door? Or that I knew they were coming and said nothing so I could have your mouth on me a few more seconds?” 

“Either is fine. But which is the truth?” Thrym asked mildly. 

He had long ago given up on asking Loki questions hoping for answers. 

“Hmm” Loki said, stretching. “Why did you do that?”

“Why did I do what?” Thrym asked, standing as he concluded morosely that was the end of this tryst, over before it had begun. 

“I know you were sent here to deliver the exact same message those gaping idiots just gave me” Loki replied, casting a narrow eyed look over his shoulder. 

“They were hardly gaping” was all Thrym offered in reply. 

“Tell me why” Loki said and his voice was petulant. 

Thrym watched as Loki picked up his clothing and fastened it about himself. 

“I miss you in my bed and you were bare after your change. I could not control myself long enough to deliver the message.”

“How can you miss something you never had?” 

“I seem to recall having you many times over.”

“And I seem to recall you _fucking_ me several times over. There is a world of difference.” 

Thrym shrugged. 

“So it is the phrasing you object to then?”

“No one has ever had me and no one ever will” Loki replied and the tone of amusement was suddenly gone. 

“Very well. I miss fucking you in my bed.” 

Loki laughed at that and approached the giant, reaching up to cup the huge cheek under his much smaller hand. 

“Another time perhaps” he said but Thrym’s expression seemed disbelieving and a little melancholy. Loki wondered why for a second before the realisation hit him. 

“Ah” Loki said, his mouth curling in a bitter smile. “It is finally time then.” 

Thrym swallowed and nodded as Loki let him go. Thrym drew himself to his full height as Loki turned away. The air around Loki’s fingertips began to crackle, tiny storms of light that danced and clashed and threw shadows on the walls. 

“You’re always magnificent like this” Thrym said softly. 

Loki laughed and the storms faded, settling back under his skin and setting it to glowing for a moment. 

“Oh Thyrm, but you are maudlin” he said, not unkindly. “I would never have expected it of you. What would your soldiers say?”

Thrym said nothing to that and the silence hung heavy for a moment before Loki spoke again. 

“Where to?”

Thrym swallowed and Loki could almost _hear_ his reluctance. Loki barely suppressed a shudder, of excitement or apprehension he couldn’t tell. 

“Loki…” 

“Where to Thrym? I do not require coddling” Loki snapped, twisting around to meet Thrym’s gaze. 

Loki knew the words before they left the elder giant’s mouth. He let himself truly stare at his former lover. The barely sheathed power of the frame, the deep scars that spoke of a bloodlust that set Loki to shivering with want, the red eyes so dark they were almost black. 

Details he’d never paid heed to before swam before his eyes. He didn’t know why, couldn’t admit he was allowing himself this because it was the last time. 

He registered Thrym was speaking and shifted his concentration from the other giant’s form to his words. 

“Loki? Did you hear me?” 

Loki nodded and wondered if this was what ‘cold’ felt like as he whispered. 

“To war.” 

* * *

The throne room had been grand, once, or so Loki had been told. Whispered voices spoke of unparalleled beauty and soaring structures of ice that would last a thousand thousand years before crumbling. 

What remained of the palace was little more than a hollowed husk, broken shards of ice that had once pierced the sky. Each day the fissures rending it were a little wider and the wind that howled through it was a little louder but the shuffling giants who’d told the stories closed their eyes and saw only beauty. 

_The majesty of Jotunheim,_ they would murmur when Loki was young and listening with keen ears and wide eyes to their ramblings. With each passing year his lip would curl a little more in disbelief until he finally stopped listening. 

They lied. Jotunheim had no majesty. It had ice and giants and nursed resentments and held grudges and it was nothing.

_There is no majesty here,_ Loki thought as he approached the throne and laid his eyes on the figure atop it. 

Loki paid no mind to the usual sycophants huddled around his father and stared instead at Laufey’s face. Loki came to a halt a few steps from the base of the throne and inclined his head slightly. 

“Such obsequiousness Loki, there’s no need to grovel…” came the sarcastic hiss from beside his father. 

Loki didn’t move, just stood impassively and ignored the titters of laughter he heard behind him. There was silence in the hall as his father regarded him. Loki wanted to summon some curiosity, to search inside himself for anything that wondered what his father was thinking. There was nothing and Loki stood unmoving. 

“Loki” his father said eventually. 

“You have been chosen for a great honour” the hiss was back and Loki allowed himself a glance at the speaker. 

“Gangr” he said blankly. “Will you miss me?” 

“Miss you?! The lowliest whore in the Nine Realms couldn’t be paid to miss you.”

Loki smiled a little. 

“Where does such venom come from Gangr? Do you seek to guard your heart against the pain of our separation? I must confess I am touched beyond all expression. I will write you every day and kiss the page so that our lips may touch across the vast distances that separate us.” 

Loki heard another laugh from somewhere in the throne room and his smile widened as Gangr whipped his head around and tried to spot the culprit. 

“Shut up” he snapped out, turning his attention back to Loki. Before he could retort Laufey shifted on his throne and spoke. 

“Enough.” 

“Of course my liege, of course” Gangr grovelled. 

Loki didn’t try to hide his disgust. 

“Let’s get this over with, I find the air in here putrid” he said, shifting his gaze back to his father who either didn’t taken offense at his words or hadn’t heard them. 

“You know of our alliance with Asgard.” 

Loki nodded. 

“You know of their war with the Vanir.” 

Loki nodded again. 

“You are to receive a great honour” Laufey’s words echoed Gangr’s from earlier but didn’t sound any more sincere on his father’s lips than they had on the snake’s. 

Loki refused to nod this time, just continued to stare. 

“You are to seal our alliance.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow at that. 

“With blood? Or something more pleasurably obtained?” 

“Don’t you dare profane your royal father’s ears with such filth” Gangr snapped. 

“Filth? Oh my dear Gangr, you must be doing it wrong.” 

Gangr’s snarl was cut off by Laufey’s voice. 

“You are to seal our alliance with service. The Asgardians have need of your skill.” 

“Skill…” Gangr’s voice was quiet enough that Laufey could pretend he hadn’t heard the derision in it. 

“Skill” Loki repeated. 

He knew exactly why he was being sent, but he needed to hear Laufey say it. He had no cards left to play and there was no bargain to be struck. Loki was going, but not without hearing it from his father’s lips himself. 

“Your skill with seiðr. You will aid the Odinson.” 

“The Odinson?” Loki asked sharply. That was something he hadn’t known. 

“Come” Laufey said, beckoning Loki even as he rose from his throne. Gangr made a frustrated sound in his throat and unconsciously raised himself a little from his seat. 

Father and son walked the length of the ruined hall, the gaping fractures in the ice letting in the dull light from outside. Where Laufey stopped seemed as unremarkable as every other inch of the hall, but Loki mimicked his father and bent down to gaze at the ice beneath their feet. 

He watched with distaste as Laufey extended a hand over the ice and summoned an image. He disliked reminders that they were similar, that he owed the thrum of the magic in his veins to someone he despised. 

Loki forgot his pique as the image began to take shape. What had been formless colours and mists coalesced and Loki bit his tongue to stop his quiet gasp before it escaped. 

“The Odinson” his father rasped and Loki narrowed his eyes. 

He hadn’t been looking at the figure in the forefront of the image. His eyes had been drawn to the seething mass of tents and grass and people that dotted the landscape before him, the endless field of war. Now his attention was drawn to the red cape that snapped in the wind and the sun-spun hair. 

“The Odinson” Loki repeated and if there was a hint of wonder in his voice, he knew Laufey would never notice. 

“You will go Loki, do not mistake me” Laufey’s voice was always distant, but the bite in it almost sent a shiver through Loki. 

“I will go” Loki repeated, gazing into the ice and watching the Aesir prince gazing over the infinite sea of troops. 

“I will go” he whispered, banishing the image and turning from his father without a dismissal or a farewell. 

“I will go.” 


	2. The Ring Around the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes to Asgard.

Loki had travelled the realms, but only as little more than a shade. A shimmer in the air, like a curtain of heat that disappeared when examined too closely. 

The first time, when the ice and snow had closed in too tight around him and he knew he had to leave or go mad, he had truly _gone._ Thrown open a book that he had barely dared touch, the pages seeming to ooze something ancient and staining onto his fingertips, and found what he wanted. 

_Travel between the realms…_

He’d worked quickly, too quickly for anything to catch up with his mind and whisper _stop, you can’t, it’s too much._ He’d spoken the words and felt his tongue writhe and cramp in his mouth as they tried to devour him. The pull when it started had set him to screaming, until his voice was ripped from his throat. It was inside him, tearing and wrenching every fibre of his being in different directions. He was going to come apart, he knew it, but even as his skin began to slough from his bones he kept speaking and the pull was suddenly all in the same direction. The pain was everywhere, but he could see the beginnings of his destination encroaching in his vision and he caught hold and clutched it tightly. 

The second he felt solid ground beneath his feet his body had rebelled and he curled towards the earth, retching up blood and bile until he was empty. It had taken weeks for him to summon the strength to return, and weeks more while he tried to quash the fear that threatened to strangle him each time he began reciting the words. When he returned to Jotunheim his room was in shreds and the giant who sat outside his destroyed door had seized his throat and dragged him before his father. 

The tear as his fingernails were ripped from their beds had hurt, but Loki had only smiled. Not a word passed his lips and eventually Laufey gave up and left him with the threat that next time he wouldn’t be so lenient. Loki had nodded, the only mark of acquiescence he’d allowed during the entire ordeal, and retreated to his room. 

He learnt his lesson and from then on his body never left the palace of ice. He lay in his bed or sat in his chair and sent forth his shade, his copy, into the realms to absorb everything it could. His fingers passed through the market wares and his skin couldn’t feel the beat of the sun upon it, but his eyes could see and his ears could hear. 

He craved it, the endless variation, the endless _change_ that seemed a hallmark of everywhere but Jotunheim. The green of a plain, the yellow of a field, the brown of a swamp, they assaulted Loki’s senses and made him yearn painfully for anything so inconstant. 

He revelled in the overwhelming bustle of Midgard, the calm refrain of Alfheim, the unfamiliar searing heat of Muspelheim, and the eerie cool of Vanaheim. He even sought the feeling of fear that came with stalking through Svartalfheim and the empty horror of Hel, though he avoided the too-recognisable ice of Nilfheim. He cherished each trip, each time his shade dipped unfeeling fingers into a passing stream or watched as a warrior whispered sweet words he soon forgot into the ear of a blushing serving wench. The realms pulsed and thrummed around him, rushing through his veins until he returned to his body and the unutterable dreariness of Jotunheim.

The realms excited him, set his heart to racing and his skin to sweating, and at the centre of it all was the place he yearned for the most. The very soil of the place seemed to call to him, a deep thrum in his bones that set his true form to shivering and his shade to restless jangling. 

Asgard.

He had avoided it far longer than the others. He would begin to reach out, to feel the edges of the realm slipping around his shadow form, only to skitter back into his own body, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling. It was before the truce, before the peace, and Asgard was the enemy. The malice that had spat forth from the mouths of the giants who littered the palace had made Loki unbearably curious. 

_It must be beautiful…_ was all he had thought when he’d listened to long tales of the cruelty of the Aesir and their one-eyed king. It must be worth hating so viciously, worth tearing at and railing against. Beautiful and terrible and Loki had ached with the need to see it. 

When he finally pushed through his fear and felt himself come together in Asgard, for the first time in his shadow form he was sure he could feel the warmth of Asgard’s golden sun. He had exhaled and opened his eyes and been greeted with a sight that caught his breath in his throat. It was beyond description, soaring and gleaming and _golden_ and Loki had wanted to stay forever. 

When he left and once more lay on his own bed, the light dim and the walls white, the bitterness inside his chest had hurt. He returned as often as he could, to the fields, to the city, to the taverns and the brothels. He observed everything he could, drinking in every detail and watching the Aesir with a jealousy he thought they should be able to feel burning them. They drank and whored and fought and killed. They were no better than the sulking fools of Jotunheim. They were surrounded by towering, golden perfection and they squandered it down to the last drop. 

He hated them, hated their easy laughter and the way they took everything for granted. They never stopped, they never looked, they never saw or cared or appreciated. Loki longed to be able to touch, to truly _touch_ something, to see if it was as fair and shining as it looked to his shadow eyes. But when he tried to work the same seiðr as before, to take his whole body and not just his shade, everything within him had screamed in protest. He awoke to find his skin shredded and his blood close to boiling. 

He’d screamed in rage and fell to weeping for the first time in a long time. 

_Not welcome. Never welcome._

It burned to know he could never go, that the closest he could get was lying in the grass that was wet with dew he couldn’t feel, staring at the ring around the moon. 

When peace had come a hope had burned bright in his chest. 

_Let me go_ he had thought breathlessly, barely able to truly think as his mind traversed his memories of Asgard and he shook a little thinking he could truly go. He had never asked, could never bend his pride enough to show that he truly wanted this, and so he had watched the bright glow of the Bifrost from afar and simply dreamt he felt the rainbow on his skin. 

_“You are to receive a great honour.”_

_I go to Asgard._

_“You are to seal our alliance._

_I go to Asgard._

_“You will go Loki, do not mistake me.”_

 _I go to Asgard._

* * *

Loki had been received by the full court in the throne room, the walls and the floor and the ceiling all reflecting an all encompassing golden glow around him. It had felt strange against his true skin, jarring in this form. 

He could have changed, was told by one of his father’s nameless, faceless advisors that he _should_ change, should bleach his skin and erase his marks and bleed the red from his eyes. He had blinked a little, surprised, before the reality of the advice sunk in and his eyes narrowed. 

The Aesir didn’t trust the Jotnar, but they did trust strength. The towering warriors who had been sent to negotiate the peace had been frightening and otherworldly, but they had been strong and fearsome and had earned the Aesir’s respect. A jotun seiðrmaðr with no soaring height, or cruel fingers, or ropey thighs, was something no one could respect. 

“If you wear this skin, they will not trust you or fear you or respect you, they will only hate you” had been dripped like poison into Loki’s ear, but Loki had only smiled and turned a little before replying. 

“They hate me already and they certainly can’t loathe me anymore than I do them, or you do me. You are even more of a fool than I thought if you imagine I care. Let them see me. Let them hate me. It matters not.” 

The advisor had clucked his tongue and hissed from between his teeth but Loki hadn’t changed. The rainbow light of the Bifrost had bathed blue skin and in his heavy furs and loincloth he had walked the length of the throne room with his spine straight. There had been courtesies and introductions and Loki had schooled his face not to twist when he was introduced only as Loki of Jotunheim, his father’s name unuttered along with his title. 

His title was little more than a joke on Jotunheim, the words ‘crown prince’ twisting every mouth in the realm into an amused smirk. They all knew it wasn’t true, it would only last as long as he lived and that Laufey was determined that wouldn’t be long. Loki didn’t care, had never wanted to be prince of a barren realm too vicious and backwards to be part of anything beyond its borders. He didn’t want his father’s name, but he couldn’t help the glance he threw to the Odinson standing tall beside his father’s throne. 

Thor. He couldn’t travel far enough that the utterance of his name wouldn’t immediately bring awe and even if unspoken, the mental echo of ‘Odinson.’ Thor would always be the Odinson and Loki was always Loki and nothing more and Loki couldn’t decide if the burn in his chest was rage or relief. 

_I am not my father’s son._

He had longed for this and now he had it. _Loki._ He intended to make the most of it. 

He approached the throne and gazed up at the legendary king. 

“Loki.” 

Loki kept his back straight and his eyes appraising even as the voice swam through his veins. 

“Allfather” he replied with a short bow of his head. He refused to bow and scrape before any throne. 

“You come as an aide, a show of faith between our peoples” Odin’s voice ran the length of the hall and boomed towards the ceiling. 

_I come as a pawn,_ Loki thought as he listened. Odin spoke of strengthening ties long forgotten, sealing alliances never imagined, but Loki tuned out to most of it. He didn’t care, had never had the patience for speeches or much of a listening ear. It didn’t matter, he would be sent where Odin or Thor wanted him and he would be told what to do. 

He could leave if he wanted. The brand of deserter, traitor would forever mark him and he would be outcast, cursed, but he could leave. For now he stood before Odin’s throne but Loki danced to his own tune. 

He realised Odin had stopped speaking so he managed a thin smile and inclined his head again. 

“Allfather. Odinson. Citizens of Asgard. I lay my skills at your feet to be used as you have need and as you see fit. It is my fervent hope that in the heat of battle we can forge a true alliance, a brotherhood that will echo down the ages and remain unbroken until the end of days. I am yours to command.” 

The hall had been silent as the grave while he spoke but when he finished there was a murmur of assent that soon grew in volume, roaring to life as the Aesir applauded his groveling. He never would have thought he’d make such a pleasing dog. 

Odin nodded, seemingly pleased, before speaking. “You depart two days hence. There will be time enough for talk of war but tonight, a feast to farewell you all.” 

Loki frowned a little. The war was now, the blood of the Aesir being spilled upon the ground of Vanaheim even as the Allfather spoke. A feast… Loki schooled his expression and suppressed his snarl. What did he care if they were fools. Let a few thousand die while Odin toasted his son and Thor led the dancing. It mattered not. A servant approached Loki and bowed deeply before telling him he was to show Loki to his chambers. Loki nodded and swept from the room without a backwards glance. 

* * *

The rooms he was led to were kingly, spacious and opulent and golden like everything else. Loki ran his hands over the walls and drank in the palace’s history. He closed his eyes and saw the passing of the years, the birth of Thor and his piercing screams, the war with Jotunheim and the quiet fear in the halls, the coming and going and endless chatter of servants through this very room. The walls spoke to him and Loki listened, allowing himself to fall deeper and deeper into history until a loud rap on the door shook him from his reverie. 

Loki clucked his tongue in irritation and stalked over to the door. 

“Yes?” he asked the servant in front of him coldly. 

The servant’s eyes were wide and staring as he stuttered. “I, I… I’ve been sent to ready your bath.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “What are you implying?” 

“Im… Implying?” the boy squinted in confusion before understanding seemed to come to him and he fell over himself apologising. “No, no my lord, I did not mean to… That is… It was not my intention…” 

Loki laughed and retreated back into the room. “Stop tripping over your tongue. Go on, fill my bath.” 

The servant bowed behind him and Loki lay down on the bed, stretching out his muscles as he listened to the sound of water being poured. 

“It’s… It’s ready” came the tremulous voice and Loki opened an eye to glance at the still shaking servant. 

“That will be all” Loki replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. The boy left hurriedly and Loki entered the bathroom. 

He shed his cloak and his loincloth and stood naked for a moment, enjoying the air on his skin before dipping a toe in the water. He drew back hissing, the water too hot by half. He could cool it, but curiosity spread through him and he turned to look at the mirror that adorned the wall. 

His eyes firmly glued to his reflection, he spoke to his skin and slowly leeched the colour from it. The blue retreated, replaced by a milky white that was at once alien and beautiful. His markings flattened and faded, leaving his skin untouched and unmarked, long expanses of skin that stretched and curved over lean muscle. He leaned closer and watched with fascination as his seiðr swallowed the red of his eyes and replaced it with a deep green that made him feel a stranger in his own skin. 

Wary of his own reflection, Loki looked down to gaze upon his body before turning to the bath and sinking in. The warmth of the water enveloped this form, the heat comforting and soothing rather than burning. He washed himself languidly, hands caressing his own skin and lingering on the unfamiliar softness. He found himself wondering if this was how other Aesir felt. Was their skin so soft, so ripe and supple beneath their fingers or beneath the fingers of another? 

He thought of venturing into the city, of pressing close to another in this form just to feel them yielding against him. He allowed himself the daydream for a few moments before frowning. He didn’t have enough time, he was expected at the feast to nod and smile and show what a righteous peace Asgard had with Jotunheim. He opened his eyes in annoyance and huffed out a breath. His night would be spent with the Odinson, far from any soft, yearning bodies that could envelop him and show him to feel what an Asgardian felt. 

Loki grinned suddenly as a thought occurred to him. He stepped out of the bath to drip upon the marble floor and dropped down into a crouch beside the water, extending a hand over it. He itched at the sensation of seiðr flowing through this unfamiliar form. The water began to freeze, the sound of cracking filling the air as the bathtub was filled with ice. Loki placed his hand on the surface, frowning a little at the bite of the ice into his soft skin. He ignored it and focused on bringing up the image he sought. 

Thor. He was hazy, Loki’s command of this form still shaky, but he was there. Loki had allowed himself only the briefest of looks when he stood before Thor and his father. Now he inched closer to the surface of the ice, breath misting over it. Loki gazed idly over Thor’s form, his height and breadth catching Loki’s breath a little in his throat. Loki smiled. 

He had been sent to war, to fight like a tamed dog for Asgard’s honour, but something simple as desire still stirred within him. Thor turned and began to shuck his clothes, expanses of golden skin appearing sharp and clear in the ice. Loki leaned close but turned away just as quickly. He’d learned early that he only ever wanted things he couldn’t have and the powerful throb of want that coursed through him as he gazed at Asgard’s golden son was no different. Loki splayed his fingers out over the ice and didn’t look back until the bathtub was one more filled with water, the image of Thor washed away. Loki sat beside the tub as he summoned back his true skin, shivering a little as his flesh hardened and his blood cooled. 

_Loki once more._

* * *

The looks the Aesir threw him were constant, but Loki was forced to admit they were closer to appraising than loathing. They were curious but mostly polite, their glances fleeting though some were more brazen. They gazed at his skin, at his markings, at his eyes, at his dress, and Loki found himself almost fascinated by their interest. He wanted to know, wanted to ask what they looked at, what they saw when they looked at him, but he stayed silent and simply stared blankly. 

His seat was at the high table, beside Thor who in turn was beside Odin. He engaged in little conversation as the meal progressed, responding shortly to Thor or Odin’s questions and asking none in return. When the meal was done and the mead began flowing in earnest, Odin and his queen, Frigga Loki remembered, retired, bidding the remaining guests a good night. Thor kissed his mother on the cheek and Loki pretended not to see, his eyes cast aside even as Thor sat back down beside him. 

“Did you enjoy the feast?” Thor enquired. 

The Aesir prince had been polite all night, more attentive and engaged than Loki deserved with his terse answers and blank stares. Loki shrugged in response, his eyes trained on the crowd below and the dancing and revelry that was beginning. 

“Well enough” he replied without looking at Thor. 

“Should I leave you alone?” Thor asked after a moment. 

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what you should do. Isn’t that for you to know?” Loki responded. 

“I meant would you prefer if I left you alone” Thor attempted to clarify. 

“Something I am even surer of is that my preferences are irrelevant.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course not, how could you?” 

“Loki, I…” Thor spoke hesitantly.

_“Loki,_ is it? How very presumptuous of you, your highness.” 

“What else should I call you?” 

“Your lowness, if it please your highness.” 

“What?” 

“Do you dance, prince?” 

“Do I…? Yes. I dance. Why do you…” 

“Rest assured if you wish to dance with your love, or even a comely whore, before our departure to the cruel theatre of war I will not be offended if you depart.” 

“Well that’s what I was asking…” Thor began, his gaze flickering out across the floor. 

“So which is it, a love or a whore? Or are the two not mutually exclusive?” 

“What?” 

“You do say that an awful lot you know.” 

“Not usually” Thor said confusedly. 

“I bring it out in you then? Oh your highness, I’m sure you can’t tell, but I’m blushing terribly.” 

“I’d be willing to bet you’ve never blushed in your life.” 

Loki allowed himself a laugh at that, both at the presumption that Thor could know anything about him and at the truth of the statement. 

“Perhaps you’re right at that. But truly, you can dance, I’m not so easily offended as to care you would prefer to spend your last night of revelry with friends rather than pets.” 

Thor frowned. “You’re not a pet, you’re an ally.” 

“I don’t know which is worse” Loki took a long draught of his mead and made a face. “Do you truly like this swill?” he asked. 

Thor smiled a little. “A great deal, but many drink for reasons other than the taste.” 

That reminded Loki too much of the drunken brawls he’d witnessed from the shadows, the utter waste that seemed to accompany the Aesir’s perfection. “Ah of course. Asgard, land of excess.” 

“What do you know of our excesses, you’ve seen only the palace” Thor replied and Loki didn’t miss the small bite in his voice now. _Almost there._

Thor’s tone, his manner, his height and his strength, were all reminding Loki of the reasons he had seethed and hated when he travelled Asgard as a shade. The privilege with no expectations, the wasted beauty and power that coiled under his skin but was used for nothing except feasting and whoring and uselessly _shining._

“I’ve been here before” Loki said shortly. 

“You have?” Thor’s voice was unabashedly curious. 

“We can’t all be so hopelessly provincial as you” Loki replied, his eyes scanning the dancers and staring steadfastly away from Thor. 

“I would hardly call Asgard provincial” Thor snapped and Loki didn’t try to hide his smile. _Finally, the temper._

“Ah, but that is the most provincial attitude of all. To believe so unwaveringly in your own perfection that you believe others should come to you to learn the ways of the world. There is nothing you can be taught that you don’t already know, nothing you can be shown to surpass the wonders already seen. Is such a closed mind not the very definition of provincialism?” 

Loki looked at Thor then, blood red meeting sky blue and he couldn’t read the prince’s expression but he started a little when Thor learned forwards. 

“Show me wonders then. You are seiðrmaðr, are you not? That’s why you’re here. Show me beauty” Thor’s words were a little rushed and his breath was ghosting Loki’s cheek. 

“We are at a feast in your honour, prince. You would leave and spit so upon their regard?” 

Thor laughed at that, his head falling back and the sound echoing around them throatily.

“You are the most contrary creature I have ever met” he said once his laughter subsided and Loki’s answering grin was genuine before he chased it off his face. Thor looked charmed rather than angry and Loki was confused about how to act. 

“Consistency is much overrated. You should give contrariness a try some time, it’s much more fun.” 

“How do you know I’m not contrary already?” Thor asked with a grin. Loki felt off balance and his eyes darted around the hall looking for an out. 

“I know because everyone knows, I know because your name is whispered from star to star in reverential tones. _Thor_ resolute and steadfast and strong, the very embodiment of everything that’s ever been good or pure or beautiful. Thor means true, and loyal, and shining, and _golden.”_ Loki’s voice was pure venom at the end, dropped so low Thor had to lean in to hear the poison drip from his tongue. 

Loki leaned in even closer and carefully brushed his frozen skin against Thor’s, smile sharp when the Asgardian drew back a little with a small gasp. He grasped Thor’s hand and opened it up, palm facing the ceiling. 

“You will have to earn my wonders Thor” and the name upon Loki’s tongue was like his first taste of wine. So warm it burned, but it still left him wanting more. “I do not give them away for free.” 

Loki stood and with nary more than a nod, turned on his heel and left the hall. Thor sat still, staring at what nestled on his palm. The tiny figure stared back at him and Thor found himself gazing intently at the wet skin of his palm long after the sculpture had melted. 


	3. Contrition

Traveling across the Bifrost was just as disconcerting the second time. The sense of being surrounded by something so immensely, indescribably, powerful sent a barely suppressed tremor through Loki. He could feel it all around him, prisms of light invading his senses and penetrating him. He felt as though he could _smell_ colour, _hear_ light. 

The first time, when he had hurtled from Jotunheim to Asgard, he had been alone and the sensations that coursed through him had been all the Bifrost, the power and the heat searing through him and obscuring anything else. Now the light all around was tainted with gold, the heat no longer just searing, but warm. Thor’s presence at his side was distracting, and Loki found himself too aware of his own body, his nerves thrumming in anticipation of Loki knew not what. 

Thor’s attention had hardly wavered since Loki had fled the banquet, palm closing around the fleeting warmth Thor’s hand had left him with. They had sat side by side in the war chamber, the droning voices of the generals old enough to be left behind drifting in one of Loki’s ears and out the other. 

He felt like a colt, skittish and awkward, his legs twitching under the table as he tried desperately to stop himself fleeing. It had been little more than a day, but already Asgard’s heat felt like it was melting him, changing him, and Loki loathed the feeling. 

Thor’s regard was constant, looks and glances that soon stopped being subtle, if they ever had been in the first place. Loki had felt his face collapsing in on itself in a permanent scowl, his features twisted even as his shoulders tried to shrug off the feeling of being watched. He wanted to scream, to hiss in the golden prince’s face and claw across his skin until there was nothing left of his beauty. 

They had ridden out to the Bifrost, to stand in front of Heimdall and cast themselves into the void beyond, and Thor’s gaze had lain heavy on Loki the whole way. Loki had thought with a sneer of how clumsy and obvious even his looks were, how no one could miss his unwavering gaze, but his sneer had soon dropped when he realised Thor was supposed to be obvious. He had no need to close his expressions, to hide his thoughts. They were open on his face and Loki wanted to scream himself hoarse at the plainly written words of Thor’s being. 

Heimdall was unchanged, had stood unchanged for millennia and Loki shuddered back from the thought, setting his body in restless motion to remind himself he was freer than this. Thor’s heat had suddenly been close, too close, his breath warm next to Loki’s ear. 

“There’s no need to shake, little giant” Thor’s voice had been little above a whisper and Loki realised with a flush he was trying to be quietly reassuring. 

“I do not _shake_ you imbecile. I merely hunger for battle” Loki had hissed back, voice rising on the final words. 

Thor had merely laughed, as he did with almost everything Loki said. He seemed at once completely bemused and utterly enchanted by Loki, his body never far away and his gaze constant. 

“I did not know you were so bloodthirsty” Thor observed as the sound around them gathered and Loki braced himself, a humorless laugh escaping as he replied. 

“You know nothing about me” he said, but his words were quiet and the noise of the Bifrost almost swallowed them completely. 

Loki felt as though he were coming apart, no longer made of flesh and bone but of light, dancing streams of light that crossed the stars. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined Thor was coming apart too. He saw the ribbons of colour they’d become tangle, hopelessly snarled until there was not two, but one, and he couldn’t deny the ache he felt at the sight. 

He wanted to reach out, to grasp Thor’s hand in his and own that warmth if only for a moment. He felt his fingers splay, his arm moving beside him, when the sound and light stopped and he was staring dazedly before him. 

They were standing on a small treeless hill, surrounded only by grass. Laid before them were seemingly endless plains, and Loki had to stop his gasp before it could escape. The plains seethed with a mixture of tents, soldiers, horses, all churning together in a teeming mass of flesh and canvas and grass. 

Loki drew himself up to his full height as he stared out over the troops. Troops he was to aid, fight beside, _save_ if he was skilled enough. Something primal was in his veins and he yearned to hear the call of the horn, to feel the thrum of battle course through him and taste blood on his tongue. 

He started a little as he felt Thor’s hand brush his elbow and he realised it was the first time since the banquet Thor had truly been far from his thoughts. He longed for battle even more, to crush skulls beneath his fingers and forget about the Aesir and their prince and the hideous feeling of _warmth_ he couldn’t seem to shake. 

_How can I long for Jotunheim?_ Loki wondered. He’d hated it with as much fire as he could muster, sent his shade out amongst the world to see wonders for him to lust after. But the wonders now burned him and although he tried to ignore it, he could feel his flesh thirsting for ice and wind. 

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Loki started again at Thor’s voice and realised he’d become lost in his thoughts again. 

Loki shrugged. “If you like that sort of thing.” 

“Which you clearly do” Thor’s voice was amused and it set Loki’s teeth on edge. 

“Do you presume to be an expert on everything you know nothing about, or do you make an exception for me?” Loki snapped. 

“I seem to make a lot of exceptions for you” Thor said, and he sounded confused at himself. 

“Come now, we only met two days ago. I have yet to see you make a single exception for me” Loki scoffed, eyes still darting across the army in front of him. 

“You think I let everyone speak to me this way?” Thor enquired with a grin and Loki grit his teeth. 

“I am only surprised your arrogance allows anyone speak to you at all.” 

Thor shrugged and though his smile wasn’t as wide as before, it hadn’t been chased away completely. Loki itched a little in frustration. His words had no effect on Thor, slid off him as water on oil. He watched as the Asgardian turned towards the mass before them and drew in a breath. 

“We should leave, before they send a party to fetch us” he said, not looking at Loki as he began striding down the hill towards his people. 

Loki stayed a few moments before following, a cruel smile painting his lips. Perhaps not so unaffected after all. 

* * *

Loki tried to maintain an air of mysterious dignity as things around him devolved. He had been introduced to what he assumed were some of the commanders in the field, not bothering to remember their names and only inclining his head when Thor spoke his name. His rudeness seemed to go unnoticed though as the four of them set to clapping each other on the back and laughing raucously at things Loki pretended not to hear. 

The others were drinking now, having been taken to Thor’s tent and provided with food and mead that they descended on like ravenous beasts. Loki declined the food and the mead, sitting outside their circle as he trained his eyes on the tent flap. Their noises became less human with each passing second and Loki’s fingers itched to reach for one of the knives that adorned a stand inside the tent and drive it deep into one of their guts, if only to cease their squawking. 

“Loki! Loki!” Thor’s speech was slurred and Loki refused to respond. 

“Loki!” suddenly Thor’s booming voice was closer and Loki started in shock as Thor grabbed him by the elbow and drew him closer towards the centre. 

“Get off me you drunken letch” Loki hissed, snatching his arm back and shoving Thor a little. 

He did not expect the roar that set up from Thor’s drunken companions, nor the looks of disbelief that made them look slightly more sober. 

“How dare you touch Thor that way!” the huge one bellowed and Loki could imagine his jowls shaking under his filthy beard. 

“I touch him how I please” Loki snapped back. 

He could feel the sodden tension in the room, the outrage made all the more keen by the befuddlement running through each of their brains. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished as all of them save Thor shared a look and fell to laughing. 

“What?” Loki snarled. 

“We were not aware of the… Nature of your relationship” the blonde one with the manicured beard slurred. Loki stared at him for a moment before drawing back in embarrassment. 

“That is not…” he started, voice wavering a little. 

His words were cut short by Thor’s hands on his waist and before he could protest, Loki was squirming desperately in Thor’s lap as the prince laughed. 

“If only my friends, if only” Thor huffed out, hands kneading into Loki’s waist. 

“Get off me, what is wrong with you” Loki hissed, trying to break Thor’s hold but lacking the leverage to do much more than struggle ineffectually against him and push against his shoulders. 

“Yes, like that” Thor said, the laughter still in his voice but overlaid with something honey coated that sent an unwanted thrill through Loki. Loki looked down at Thor’s eyes, bright and hungry and staring straight at him. Loki stilled for a moment before a sound from one of the others brought him back to himself. 

Enraged, Loki brought his hand around Thor’s throat and _squeezed,_ the feel of Thor’s throat constricting against his hand making him feel powerful and terrified. Thor’s eyes weren’t frightened, but there was something lurking in them that Loki didn’t want to admit. Loki tightened his grip as Thor released his, and Loki was up and storming from the tent the next second, blood pounding so loud in his ears he feared he would faint. 

His stalked towards the edge of the camp, ducking behind a tent and shivering as he let the change come over himself. He felt like he was melting, but when he opened his eyes and they were sharp and opened his mouth to hear a call rather than words, he could feel the rage draining out of him. He spread his arms and felt the wind caress the tips of his wings, launching himself skyward with a call he hoped Thor would hear and _know._

* * *

Loki made sure he landed in the midst of the camp, surrounded by soldiers, before he shifted back, shivering a little as he summoned the illusion of clothes for himself. The gasps and exclamations were more than a little gratifying and Loki had to work hard to hide his smile. He stalked through their ranks, their numbers parting easily before him as he made his way to Thor’s tent, his rage still bubbling under the surface. 

The guard at the entrance stammered a few times, word about the shape shifting jotun having spread fast through the camp. Loki raised an eyebrow before walking ahead, slightly unsure if he would be stopped but willing to take the risk for the sake of dramatics. The guard did nothing but stare and Loki found himself standing in Thor’s tent, eyes darting around and searching for the man himself. 

Loki spotted him crouched in the corner, head in his hands as he glared down at a map. Loki stepped forward heavily, making a deliberate noise with his steps and schooled his face to a mask of indifference as Thor looked up before just as quickly looking away. 

“What’s this?” Loki said with a sneer. “Are you bashful? What a strange turn of events, I don’t remember you very bashful when you held me in your lap like a common whore.” 

Loki could almost see the misery pouring off Thor, thick waves of shame that polluted the air but were almost arousing to Loki. He could work with this. Thor’s mouth opened and closed a few times in vain, his eyes still downcast. 

“I know this is war your highness, but it’s poor form to begin the rapes before you’ve even won a battle.” 

That brought Thor’s head up sharply and his face was a picture of misery. He stumbled upwards, surging towards Loki. Loki suppressed a flinch and held his ground, trying to put convey loathing he didn’t feel. 

“Loki, I would never…” Thor’s voice was so earnest Loki couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Well of course not you ridiculous fool, as if I would let you” Loki replied, stepping forward and slipping a hand loosely around Thor’s neck in a reminder of the night before. 

Thor swallowed and the bob of his Adam’s apple tickled a little. As before, he didn’t look scared, just apologetic and a little bit desperate. 

“You are not burning me” Thor said and Loki started a little in surprise. That hadn’t been what he was expecting. “And you did not burn me last night.” 

He didn’t ask, but Loki could feel the curiosity racing through him as surely as he could feel the warmth of his skin. Loki snorted a little and dropped his hand. 

“I would not be much of an asset, nor much of a seiðrmaðr, if a simple stumble into one of your soldiers was a death sentence” he replied coolly, turning from Thor and taking one of the empty seats in the middle of the tent. 

“Why…” Thor began and though Loki couldn’t see him, he could almost hear Thor bite his lip. Loki’s lip curled, he knew what question was coming. “Why did your skin burn me at the banquet then?” 

“Because you are an insufferable brat and you have never been hurt in your life” Loki replied. 

Silence greeted that for a moment. 

“It still hurt the next day, but there was no mark” Thor said quietly and Loki wished he hadn’t turned away. He wanted to see Thor’s face. 

“Were you disappointed?” Loki’s voice was quiet and he felt like words were slipping from his lips without his permission. He didn’t know where his outrage had gone, he’d left it somewhere in the sky perhaps, or maybe at Thor’s feet. 

“Maybe I was. Maybe I wanted something to remember you by” Thor’s voice sounded closer but Loki still couldn’t look. 

“You do not need something to remember me by, I am right here” Loki wanted to sound scathing but it came out soft and inwardly he seethed. 

“But what’s the use if I cannot touch you?” Thor was standing right behind him, Loki was sure of it and the shiver that ran down his spine wasn’t the familiar fear at having someone at his back. 

There was a sound outside, voices raised, and Loki straightened himself and stared ahead. 

“I have news of the Vanir” he said, knowing he should have said that as soon as he entered the tent but unable to care. 

“Loki, I…” Thor still sounded close, but he was interrupted by one of his idiot band bursting through the entrance, eyes averted as he spoke. 

“I’ve looked everywhere Thor, I can’t find him, people are saying he was an eagle the size of a house and then he disappeared in a puff of smoke…” he stopped short when he raised his eyes and saw Loki glaring at him from his seat. 

“Ah, I…” the idiot began to stammer but Loki cut across him. 

“I have news of the Vanir” he repeated, more firmly this time, and he didn’t miss Thor’s sigh. 

“Fandral” he said. “Summon the commanders.” 

There was no missing the resignation in Thor’s voice and by the look on his friend’s _(Fandral,_ Loki reminded himself) face he was wondering why. Fandral glanced at Loki but seeing nothing but an expressionless face and cruel red eyes, he turned away with a muttered “Of course Thor” and departed the tent. 

Silence descended thick and uncomfortable, but Loki refused to acknowledge it. He sat still and stared ahead blankly, his heart heavy in his chest as he thought about telling Asgard’s fiercest warriors how they should make war. 

“I am sorry” broke the silence and Loki could hear the sincerity in the wetness of Thor’s tone. 

He sighed a little, annoyed at himself that he hadn’t come sooner when he was still angry. His barbs would miss their mark now. 

“I imagine you are a man who is constantly sorry, but never considered. You lurch from apology to apology, always contrite and always forgiven, but never different. An apology for something you fully intend to do again is less than worthless” 

Loki didn’t resist when Thor interrupted him.

“I will not do that again, I merely…” he trailed off and Loki smiled a little. 

“You cannot even admit what you did. Too ashamed of your drunken desires?” Loki asked, genuinely curious. 

“Ashamed at the way I treated you” and the words were so trite, the sentiment so flowery Loki curled his lip in disgust. 

“Save your flatteries, I neither want nor need them” Loki breathed, and to his own surprise he wished that coiffed buffoon would hurry up and they could begin this meeting. He needed to feel powerful, and listening to Thor’s sniveling words wasn’t the road to that. 

“I would have you know my regard…” Thor began but he stopped at Loki’s hiss. 

“You would do well to cease treating me like you would a woman, _Thor”_ and the name was a dagger thrown from Loki’s tongue. “I will not be your kept whore and I will not scramble in the dirt for your _regard.”_

Loki heard Thor draw a breath and steeled himself to ignore the Asgardian's words, but voices outside the tent stopped them for a second time and Loki felt his blood pump faster. 

_This is why you are here_ he whispered to himself. _War._

Loki stood as the Aesir commanders filed into the tent, eyeing him warily, a few offering him nods that he returned. He heard Thor introduce him but tuned out to his praise. He didn’t want, didn’t _need_ Thor to convince these people of his worth and when he stepped forward to begin talking, he didn’t acknowledge that golden warmth beside him at all. 


	4. A Bit of Coloured Ribbon

A shiver trailed up Loki’s spine as he scented the blood in the air. He didn’t try to hide the sharp grin that split his face as he shrugged his fur from his shoulders and felt the breeze caress his skin. He knew his freedom was a lie, that he was still bound, now with fire rather than ice, but even the illusion was intoxicating. Here, with his chest and arms laid bare to the air and the lust for battle coursing through him, he was as free as his blades could make him. His skin tingled and his eyes sharpened as the two armies clashed, and with a cry he threw himself forward into the fray. 

* * *

Loki had been waging the war for weeks, but the thrill of battle was as sharp now as it had been the first time he felt a spray of blood splatter across his skin. There had been polite disagreements in public, which turned into screaming arguments in private, with Thor about Loki being in the midst of the fighting. The Aesir seemed to think it was too dangerous for Loki, the campaign too violent for an unblooded warrior to plunge into. 

Thor wanted Loki to soar above the battle, or perform some flashy seiðr from afar, to help the war effort in his _own_ way, Thor had magnanimously explained. Loki had come close to slitting the Asgardian's throat that night, the words too closely mirroring platitudes that were fed to women and children left behind, that every effort was valuable. That sewing a uniform was on a par with losing an eye to a sword thrust.

Thor had been taken aback at Loki’s vehemence and had backed down grudgingly. He hadn’t brought it up again, but Loki knew Asgard’s other commanders wouldn’t accept an ally who cowered far from the battle, and Loki knew Thor knew it too. It didn’t stop the feeling of Thor’s eyes lingering on him before they threw themselves amongst the Vanir, the feeling that set Loki’s teeth on edge every time. He knew the look that would greet him if he gave in and glanced over. An expression that was one part mournful, one part longing, and all parts infuriating. 

Loki had struggled enough to show the Aesir warriors that being seiðrmaðr did not mean being a coward. They had been skeptical, dismissive even, but Loki had simply smiled and awaited his chance. It had come during the first battle, when he summoned ice blades to cover his arms and had sheared through rank after rank of Vanir soldiers. It wasn’t enough for the soldiers to die, they had to _bleed,_ the Aesir seemed to think there was something honorable about tearing a man’s throat out, so long as it was done with a blade. 

Loki had fought like a creature possessed, revelling in the stench of the battlefield and the crackle of blood as it dried on his skin. His cries were feral and his visage terrifying. He’d fought until he was dizzy and nauseous, until night fell and he stumbled back to camp with the other warriors. But that night, _that night,_ his back had been bruised from being clapped too often, his throat burning from the mead that was forced on him. 

He had been glorious and they had worshipped him, their brutal Jotun talisman. He had laughed as tales of his exploits expanded with every telling, and drank to every toast with the rest of them. Thor was always present, but never vocal, simply sitting and oftentimes staring as Loki accepted the soldiers’ praise. Thor would raise his glass to the toast, but he never uttered a word of congratulations or praise and no matter how many times Loki insisted to himself that that was a badge of honour, his eyes were always drawn to Thor, each time hoping for an iota of approval. 

Loki’s blood had sung with the thrill of battle and the low, shameful yearning for their praise that he would never admit even to himself. After that first battle and that first celebration, he’d craved battle with more and more abandon, his hunger for it something primal, something dark.

Apart from Thrym, whose caresses betrayed the gentleness lurking under those hands that were made for slaughter, Loki had always scorned jotun soldiers. They were base, nothing more than animals slavering and howling at each other. Pathetic. But with each kill he thought maybe he’d been wrong, maybe this was what he was made for. He felt powerful and beautiful and roused and alive and he never wanted the feeling to fade. 

* * *

Loki’s throat was raw from screaming, his mouth tasted of blood, both his enemies and his own, and his muscles ached but still he surged forward. He slashed and hacked, red eyes scanning the hordes around him. He frowned for a moment when he realised he couldn’t see a single Asgardian soldier. He was surrounded by Vanir and as he realised he’d advanced too far beyond enemy lines and was alone and outnumbered, he couldn’t be sure if it was fear or relief that rushed through him at the thought of meeting his end. 

Loki allowed himself a feral grin before throwing himself forward with as much ferocity as he could muster, cutting down three in one sweep before he was driven to his knees by a blow to the back of his head. As he knelt in the mud he tried to call on his seiðr but it wouldn’t obey him and he wondered how powerful that blow had been. He could feel something warm trickling down the back of his neck and he thought with a careful detachment that this was probably the end. He closed his eyes, prepared for the death blow that he could feel being aimed, and lost consciousness before he could feel any pain, slumping face down in the mud as the battle raged around him. 

* * *

There was a cocoon of sound around him. Not a single noise, but a plethora of sounds that all warred with each other for dominance, soaring and fading in an endless battle. Loki frowned and heard one noise rise above the rest before everything fell silent and he heard his name.

“Loki? Loki?” 

What was that voice? It was familiar but the feelings it conjured up didn’t make any sense, and Loki felt his frown deepen. 

“Loki?” 

Loki moved his throat experimentally, trying to speak but quickly gave up when no sound escaped. 

“You cannot speak” the confusing voice said again, and Loki was sure it sounded disapproving but when he tried to wonder why, the thought slipped away from him. “Your throat was… Damaged.” 

_Damaged?_ Loki knew he should be worried, desperately, that if he couldn’t speak he couldn’t cast and if he couldn’t cast then he was nothing, a husk, but the panic he expected to feel never came and he simply lay there, idly wondering why. 

“You’ve been… Asleep for 4 days” the voice continued and Loki was confused by its softness, and its hesitations. He wanted to ask why, to ask anything really, but he remembered _damaged_ and didn’t try to speak again. 

“Do you remember what happened?” there was a hint of frost to the voice now and Loki struggled a little as the need to remember who the voice belonged to intensified, but he soon quietened when he felt the beginnings of pain rippling through him. He settled for trying to shake his head. 

“You advanced too far” yes, frost, and a hint of steel, the softness of earlier burned away. “You were out of sight of any of our warriors. You were isolated. You were outnumbered. And you fell.” 

_Fell?_ There was something, a barely-there shadow in the back of his mind, tinged with red and the taste of fear, but it was still too far off. He couldn’t remember, not really. 

There was a sharp intake of breath and Loki tried more intently to open his eyes. To see who was speaking to him, to know who sounded angry and worried and altogether desperate. He blinked, shying away from the light when his eyes finally opened a little and squinting a little. As his eyes came into focus and he caught sight of who had been speaking, the hazy memories crystallised and he felt an inexplicable sense of loss as he remembered that this was Thor and they were at war. 

Thor looked tired, the normally golden cast of his skin dull and grey in the dim light of the tent. Loki frowned a little as he realised they were in Thor’s tent, that there were healers’ tools and a smell of sickness in the air and that they were _in Thor’s tent._ He would have had his bandages changed, been bathed, would have moaned and cried out in pain, sweated and stunk and Thor had been there to see it all. 

Loki fixed Thor with the most vicious glare he could muster and pressed himself as hard as he could back into the bed, that pathetic show the most defiance he could manage. 

He bristled as all Thor did was _smile_ and Loki felt his hackles raise even more. 

“Ah” Thor said, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips. “I see my hope that a blow to the head would have knocked the disagreeability clean out of your skull was in vain.” 

Loki wondered if it was possible to strain your eyeballs and concluded that if it were, he would have by now. Bereft of any other way to show his displeasure, his glare was sharp and cruel, or so he hoped. Judging by how little Thor seemed to care, or even notice, it must have looked as feeble as it felt. 

Thor’s expression turned speculative and he turned away, saying something too quiet for Loki to decipher anything but the tone. There was a murmur of agreement from somewhere Loki couldn’t see, followed by shuffling and the sound of the tent flap being drawn back and then closed again. There was silence in the tent and Loki felt his heart flutter a little at the knowledge they were alone. 

Thor was staring, too intently and too piercingly and Loki wanted to scream at him to stop but he could do nothing and that knowledge burned. Loki wanted something else to look at, but Thor was too close and too big, taking up too much space and though Loki kept telling himself to close his eyes, he couldn’t and they remained open and wide and he cursed himself and Thor and everything on this forsaken rock. 

“Your injury gives me an opportunity I would be a fool to pass up” Thor said quietly and he was close, too close, Loki could smell him and feel his heat and Loki glared as hard as he could manage and tried to shuffle away only to be stopped by the searing pain that accompanied his every movement. Thor watched him with amusement before humming “You see? You’re at my mercy” and creeping even closer. 

Loki turned his head, the largest movement his battered body was capable of making, and an altogether pathetic showing, but he couldn’t look at Thor, he couldn’t. 

“You brought this on yourself” Thor’s voice was steady but his words burned and Loki seethed that he had no choice but to lie there and listen. 

“I’m sure you think I’m cruel, forcing this on you, while you can’t talk back. But you’re too sharp, Loki, too quick to anger. I have to say this now, while I can, while your hissing tongue is stilled and I can speak without you pouring venom on my words.” 

Thor paused and Loki wondered incredulously if he was hoping for some sign of acceptance. Loki set his jaw and simply stared at Thor, hoping the great imbecile got the message that this was as much acceptance as Thor would ever get from Loki. 

“You give me no quarter Loki” Thor murmured and Loki couldn’t miss the frustration in his voice. “I suppose I should give you the same courtesy” and with that Thor leaned in even closer, so close they were all but touching and the blue of Thor’s eyes was everywhere and Loki couldn’t _breathe._

“You brought this on yourself” and Thor’s breath was achingly hot against Loki’s cheek. “By being reckless and foolhardy and desperate to prove something.” 

Loki’s eyes widened and he felt the skin of his palms split as his fingernails sunk in deep. 

“I know you wanted to prove you were a warrior, to prove you could fight and kill and slaughter like the rest of us, and you did. You did prove that, you proved it day after day and week after week and like the fool you’ve named me I let you. I let you wade into the fray even when I knew how it would end, with your blood on the ground.” 

Loki’s eyes were practically rolling in his head now and blood was dripping down his hands and soaking into the blanket. If Thor had noticed, he hadn’t said anything, and Loki wished with a desperation he wasn’t used to for the strength to reach out and choke the prince’s life from his body. But Thor paid him no heed and Loki still had no strength so Thor just kept on talking. 

“Do you know how warriors die Loki? They die in battle, they die at the end of a sword or with an arrow through their eye or with their skull crushed into the ground and their brains decorating someone else’s hammer. Do you know how many warriors we have? Do you? I know you sit in on the meetings but I can never tell how much you listen. We have thousands Loki, tens of thousands and what will turn the tide of this fight is not one more raving bloodthirsty beast. You were not sent here to die upon the ground, you were sent here to do what we cannot, to be seiðrmaðr.” 

Loki was bursting with the need to say something, do something, scream that Thor didn’t know and couldn’t know and was ignorant, so ignorant, but his rage wasn’t healing his wounds and he still couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. But when Thor continued, Loki couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t halt it and it was done before he even really knew what was happening. 

“You will no longer be allowed to fight on the front lines. We have better uses for your skills…” and Thor took a breath as though to continue but _no longer allowed_ was burned into Loki’s brain and with all the strength he could muster he spat in Thor’s face, the saliva tinged with red and tracking a glittering trail down Thor’s cheek. The moment seemed frozen for so long Loki wondered if Thor had killed him and this was death, just an endless repeat of his final moments. 

Distracted, he barely registered it when Thor’s fist gripped his throat and for the first time he truly felt that wound, the sharp edges and the excruciating _pain_ that flared out and ran through his whole shaking frame. He could hear choking and realised the sounds were coming from him but he refused to let any fear show on his face and he matched Thor glare for glare. If this was how he was to die, he wouldn’t bend his back at the last. Thor pulled him even closer and the jerking movement sent pain ricocheting through Loki. Thor stared at him for what seemed like an age, fist tight as a vice, but as Loki’s vision began to fade, spots appearing before his eyes and blocking out Thor’s face, Loki heard a curse and distantly felt himself fall back to the bed before he slipped away, to sleep or death he didn’t know. 

* * *

“I do not want him to die.” 

“Everything dies, my lord.” 

* * *

A red-tinged haze and coughing that sounded more like a death rattle, before cool hands and a damp cloth. 

* * *

“When will they get here?” 

“I am a healer, my lord, not an oracle.” 

A snarl, and then nothing. 

* * *

Warmth, all encompassing but not overwhelming. Just safe and bright and solid. 

A whisper, “You can’t die. I won’t let you.” 

* * *

A rumbling voice, “What happened to him?” 

“He fell, valiantly in battle. “

“The prince has never done anything valiantly in his life.” 

More snarling, then a whimper and silence, followed by a tightly grasping hand and a soft assurance. 

“I am here.” 

* * *

Light. Dim and warm but still a little piercing. 

Loki’s eyes adjusted slowly and he looked around the tent. It was Thor’s, but the shame he had felt last time didn’t come and all he felt was relief. To be somewhere familiar, to be anywhere at all. He swallowed and noted the pain from before was almost gone. He opened his mouth and tried to call out, but all that came was a pathetic mewl. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and was on the verge of trying again when a voice froze him. 

“Stop that, now” Loki couldn’t place the voice itself, but he could hear the tone and the timbre and the scorn and he knew exactly who spoke. The creature the voice belonged to made its way into Loki’s line of sight and the despair when it came was crushing. 

“Jotun” Loki managed to choke out, throat burning from the effort. 

The hulking giant in front of him should have looked ridiculous hunched over inside Thor’s tent, his head still brushing the ceiling, but the sight did little to calm the panic rising in Loki. 

“Who..” he began but his throat closed up and he couldn’t force anymore out. 

“I am Naglfari, a healer, not that you would know. You were always too ashamed to let anybody see that pitiful excuse for a body” the giant said with a grin and Loki wanted to scream, to cry, inexplicably he wanted _Thor_ but instead he just glared and turned his head away slightly. 

“Do you want to know why I’m here, little runt? I bet you do” Loki could hear the cruel grin in his, in Naglfari’s, voice and he desperately didn’t want to hear anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you. I’m here because I was summoned. Summoned by the great Odinson himself” and oh how Loki burned to hear that. Thor. Thor had called this creature here. 

“He was desperately worried about you, you know” Naglfari’s words were barbed and Loki shifted unconsciously on his bed, trying to draw away. “He thought you were going to die, that you needed special Jotun healing” and the laugh that followed was harsh and Loki cursed the beast before him, and Thor, and himself, for being so hopelessly weak. 

The giant was close now, his skin emitting a burning chill that made Loki wonder if there had been any accidents with the Asgardians getting too close. _Thor, you idiot._

“What has the little runt been doing to inspire such _passion?”_ he hissed and Loki had to suppress a shiver. “Do you let him rut into you? Barely out of Thrym’s bed and already you’ve found another to protect you. You must be a talented whore.” 

Loki’s throat ached so his reply when it came was scratchy and weak but there was fire in it too. 

“Get away from me” he tried to hiss. “I am a prince…” 

“You are _nothing_ and if it had been up to me you’d be rotting by now” Naglfari snarled back but Loki smiled triumphantly and the other giant frowned in confusion. 

“Thank you for your assistance friend” Loki choked out, grinning now he could hear others coming, Naglfari’s raised voice drawing their attention. He kept his grin in place as the giant fidgeted and glared but let it drop when he saw the tent flap opening and saw who the noise had brought. Loki’s mouth twisted a little in disappointment when he saw it was one of Thor’s idiot friends, the blonde one… Fandral, yes, Fandral. 

“Is everything alright in here?” he asked slowly, sensing the tension in the room but unsure where it had come from. 

“Unfortunately my dear man, nothing is right in here. This beast was trying to molest me, I demand an Asgardian healer at once” the words barely made it out of his mouth and his throat felt as though he’d swallowed blades but it was worth it to see the pure rage twist Naglfari’s rough face. 

“Er…” Fandral began, eyes boggling almost out of his head as he looked at the giant’s size, but he needn’t have worried. Naglfari directed one final glare at Loki before turning and storming out of the tent, setting the entire structure to quivering when he banged into one of the support poles. Loki felt some of the tension bleed out of him but his heart was still racing. 

“Where is Thor?” Loki asked, eyes bright on Fandral. 

“I thought you wanted a healer…?” Fandral asked confusedly. 

“And the two are mutually exclusive? Bring me both, now, and tell whoever stands outside not to let another Jotun in here under pain of death.” 

Speaking was getting easier now, the pain slightly lessening each time he spoke. 

Fandral looked as though he wanted to object to being bossed around like a child but he said nothing, just closed his mouth over a sour expression and left the tent with a flourish. 

Loki lay back on his makeshift bed. As the panic fled his body, relaxing his muscles and slowing his heart, it was replaced by the colder feeling of dread, seeping into his skin and making him shiver. They were here. Whatever he had made for himself, whatever regard he had clawed his way to with the Asgardians, was gone. 

Naglfari was here and surely there were others, Jotuns, each and every one filled with contempt and hatred for Loki. His stomach was filled with lead as he railed silently against it. Being sent to die he could handle, but being sent to die _and_ having to endure the endless mockery of his loathed brethren was too much. But, he reminded himself with an icy calm, it was not Gangr, or Laufey, or Naglfari , who had engineered this. It was Thor. 

Thor had summoned the healer, when he was worried Loki would die. Die from a wound Thor had aggravated. In the back of Loki’s mind he could remember snippets from his slumber, warmth and a solid presence, and constant murmured promises and endearments but it was too hazy and his rage was sharp so he abandoned those thoughts. He began to haul himself upright in bed, cringing at the feel of his weakened muscles and dried sweat, and steeling himself to speak to the golden prince who had invited everyone who had ever hated Loki to take care of him on his sickbed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is taken from something I read Napoleon said, "A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon." I have no idea if he actually said that or if it's totally apocryphal, but it fit so I used it!


	5. Never Wake Again

“Your Highness, you need to step back” the healer said, exasperation leaking into her tone. Loki was astounded it had taken this long for her to become waspish. If he had been in her place he would have snapped Thor’s neck minutes ago. 

“Of course, of course, I apologise” came the reply, the same as before, and accompanied by Thor retreating a few steps. 

Loki knew, and he was sure the healer knew by now too, that this would last all of two minutes before Thor was back encroaching upon the very space he had just vacated. 

The healer closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and looking straight at Loki. 

“May I ask why you sent the other healer away?” she asked and Loki narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Thor sounding snappish. 

“What does it matter why, he asked for an Asgardian, that is the extent of your involvement” Thor glared, well and truly back too close to Loki and the healer. 

“Your Highness I merely…” the healer began. 

“Do you know who he is?” Thor demanded angrily and Loki raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course your Highness…” 

“Clearly you are unaware, or you would be addressing him correctly” Thor was looming now, towering off the woman and Loki wondered what exactly Thor was driving at. The healer seemed to understand, her jaw twitching slightly as her eyes narrowed. 

When she looked up at Loki there was little deference to be found in her face, but when she spoke her performance was masterful. “I apologise, your Highness” she said to Loki, with a slight incline of her head but a defiant expression that was hidden from Thor. 

Thor grunted, unconvinced. “Well, how is he?” 

_“He_ is sitting right here” Loki said with a glower. 

“There would be very little point in my asking you how you are. You would toast to your health even as your guts spilled on the ground” Thor replied gruffly but there was the hint of a smirk in his face and Loki glared even harder. 

“How poetic” Loki snarled back before looking back at the quietly appraising healer. “Well, are you going to answer the great buffoon? How am I?” 

“Your recovery progresses smoothly, _your Highness”_ her tone now slipping easily into something nasty. 

“Then we need no longer endure your presence” Thor snapped, grabbing the woman roughly by the arm and pushing her towards the opening of the tent. “Tell the guards to ensure we are not disturbed.” 

Thor’s glare followed the woman from the tent as Loki lay back appraisingly. 

“I fear I may be missing several vital pages of the script” he remarked archly, staring at Thor and wondering why the great idiot was so worked up. Looking at Thor, the rage that had all but consumed Loki earlier was still there, lodged like a hot brand under his heart, but it lay dormant for the moment. He never seemed able to hold onto his anger with Thor, it was too slippery and it fell right through his fingers before he could even notice. 

Thor looked at him sourly and seemed to decide whether to tell the truth or not. “There has been dissension in the ranks with the camp’s… New arrivals. She numbers among those who do not appreciate the presence of our Jotun allies.” 

“Then she is less of a fool than you” Loki retorted. 

“You did not object to the way she spoke to you? She is a servant” Thor asked. 

“The way she spoke to me? Ah, you mean the lack of obsequious ‘Your Highnesses.’ No, I did not object.” 

“You are a prince, the same as me. We are of equal status.” 

Loki blinked for a moment, silent as Thor shifted awkwardly on his feet, before throwing his head back as far as his injury would allow and laughing. 

Thor frowned in annoyance. “I was not jesting” he said.” 

“That is why I laugh.” 

“I do not understand,” Thor said, his frown deepening. 

“And you never will,” Loki shot back with venom. 

“You are barely awake after weeks of slumber and your first order of business is making me feel foolish” Thor snapped and Loki smiled. 

“Have you missed me?” Loki asked and it was supposed to be teasing, biting and sarcastic, but when it landed it sounded a little too much like pleading and Loki cringed. 

Thor regarded him for a few moments before sitting heavily in the chair beside Loki’s bed. 

“More than I would have thought possible” Thor admitted with a little wonder and a little frustration in his tone. 

“I was…” Thor spoke slowly then swallowed, leaning a little closer like he was sharing a secret. “Scared” he said softly. 

“The thought of you dying was…” Thor shook his head and cleared his throat twice before continuing and Loki wanted to stop him, to stop whatever confessions he had stored, but Loki’s words didn’t come and he waited with bated breath for Thor’s next words. “Unbearable.” 

Thor was close, so close, just as he had been before. Before. A bitter smile twisted across Loki’s lips as he remembered just why he was here and the fluttering below his breast at Thor’s words ceased. The pain at his throat, the fear in his heart, the seeping cold of the Jotuns who waited outside. They were Thor’s doing and if he could forgive, if he _longed_ to forgive everything else, he couldn’t shake the memory of Naglfari and the reminder of everything he was. _You are nothing._

“What possessed you?” Loki spoke suddenly, ignoring what had come before. 

“What possessed me?” Thor sounded puzzled, genuinely confused, and Loki wanted to scream. 

“What possessed you to summon the Jotuns here?” Loki demanded. He could hear the desperation in his voice and he thought idly that he hadn’t heard it in a while. He hadn’t missed it. 

“I don’t understand” Thor said, but Loki interrupted before he could continue. 

“That is painfully clear, but if you would just _answer the question.”_

“I brought them here because you were wounded…” Thor stopped and Loki’s eyes widened a fraction at the catch he was sure he wasn’t imagining. How long had he slept? “Gravely wounded and I feared for your survival.” 

Loki needed to deflect, to ignore the catch in Thor’s voice and the raw sound of those words. He needed to cling tight to his anger and not let it go again. If he lost his grip for just a second it would flee and Loki feared what would replace it.

“You seemed unconcerned with my survival when your fist was wrapped around my throat” Loki spat back. _This will hurt._

“Loki, I am sorry…” Thor’s voice thrummed with sincerity and something deeper but Loki ignored it.

He scoffed, “Round and round we go, I am _sure_ I have heard those words somewhere before. From someone wearing your face and speaking in your voice. They mean nothing…” 

“They mean everything” Thor interrupted with feeling and Loki wondered how many times he had apologised and to whom. 

“They mean nothing to me” Loki snapped back. 

“I cannot force your forgiveness…” Thor’s voice was breaking and it hurt to hear. 

“You cannot _have_ my forgiveness” Loki replied.

“Loki, I am sorry…” 

“Stop repeating yourself, stop it, you drive me mad” Loki’s snarl was feral and he thrashed a little on his bed, wishing with all his might he had the power to escape. 

“Loki, I never meant to hurt you…” Thor’s voice wrapped around Loki’s name in a desperate caress. 

“Which would have been a great comfort to me in my grave I am sure.” 

“You spat on me…” Thor was clutching at anything now, casting around to find a reason. 

“You are entirely right, I asked for it. I am merely surprised you did not try to murder me earlier for _looking_ at you wrong.” 

“Loki” his name was soft this time as it fell from Thor’s lips, it lacked the bite of desperation from before, and with it came Thor’s hand, soft and huge and resting gently on his cheek. Loki closed his eyes and wondered if this was what madness felt like. 

“Loki” again, and just as soft and warm the second time and all of Loki’s energy was diverted to resisting its pull. “You will never know how sorry I am. I have never regretted anything more.” 

Loki’s chest began heaving. He wanted to speak, to spit back harsh words or whimper endearments, but when he spoke neither came but either would have been better. 

“You, you…” Loki squirmed at his own stuttering. “You _brought them here.”_

“Who?” Thor frowned for a moment and Loki wondered how he could care for someone so impossibly dense before Thor’s expression cleared, saving Loki the trouble of examining that particular though. “The Jotuns? Loki you were dying.” 

“I would have rather died!” 

The words wouldn’t come back now, wouldn’t be stopped, they spilled forth when Loki had no intention of uttering them. 

“I would rather you left me on that battlefield and let the crows pick over my corpse than have them here.” 

Loki expected Thor to be shocked, or confused, but not this. Not the soft, understanding look Loki now found directed at him. 

“Is your pride really worth so much?” Thor asked softly and it struck Loki that Thor never spoke softly except to him. But what that meant didn’t matter and Loki couldn’t stop remembering that the Jotun healer had thought Loki was whoring himself to Thor. 

“What else do I have?” Loki asked truthfully. 

Thor regarded him carefully for a moment, his expression guarded as he weighed something up in his mind before speaking. “Am I really so little to you?” 

Loki flushed and looked away, annoyed with the gesture even as he turned but unable to face that golden heat and chase it away.

“I do not know what you mean” Loki said, not a quaver in his voice but thrumming through his veins. 

“Why do you lie to me?” 

“Why did you hurt me?” Loki shot back. He could see the claws of guilt were embedded deep in Thor’s gut, he only needed to _pull._

Thor looked broken for a moment but he shook it off quickly and leant in closer. “If I promised to never hurt you again?” 

“I would name you for the liar you are.” 

“If I promised you the world?”

“I would name you for the fool you are” Loki’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“If I promised to lo…” 

Loki interrupted breathlessly. “I would name you for carcass you would soon be, Odinson, _do not.”_

Thor’s eyes didn’t leave Loki’s face and for once Loki was thankful he didn’t share Thor’s complexion, the rush of blood to his face doing little more than darkening his skin. 

“Will you at least tell me why?” Thor asked, but it wasn’t really a question because Thor already knew the answer. Loki stared at the wall of the tent and replied anyway, the truth this time. 

“I could not possibly explain it to you” he spoke softly and cursed himself for it. He wanted the anger, the hot red brand burning inside of him. Something to cling to, to spew forth and burn all in its path. Not this snivelling softness, this weakness that only seeped into his bones when Thor was before him. The anger was easier, to hold onto and to feed. This… Whatever this was was simply confusing and more than a little exhausting, but the anger was nowhere to be found. Loki couldn’t summon it and he thought he should be more annoyed about that than he was. 

“You weary me” Loki said after the silence had settled over both of them, exhaustion creeping into his tone. 

Loki didn’t expect the soft laugh that came from Thor then, huffed out seemingly against his will, and Loki couldn’t stop the shadow of a smile that curled his own lips in return. 

“The feeling is mutual, your Highness” there was a hint of humour in Thor’s tone. 

“Ah, but you have strength to spare! The mighty Thor, brimming with power, undefeatable! I am merely a broken soldier.” 

“Undefeatable is it? You must be thankful you are on my side in that case. But, a thought. I tend your bedside like the lowliest of servants. Your drink is brought carefully to your lips by the hands of the mighty Thor. Perhaps you are the mightiest of us all?” Thor’s mouth quirked as he spoke and Loki was struck by how odd sardonic seemed on the man. 

“And perhaps you are not as dense as you appear. I am the power behind the throne” Loki smirked, his obvious smugness drawing another laugh from Thor. 

“Aye, perhaps you are at that” Thor said after staring for a few beats. There was something in his expression, a moment of recollection that Loki wanted to ask about. 

“What are you…?” Loki prompted but Thor cut him off with a shake of his head and a rueful expression. 

“Never mind” Thor said firmly, still staring at Loki, before he cleared his throat and straightened a little in his seat. 

“I need your help” Thor said and Loki narrowed his eyes a little at the change of subject. Subtlety was not Thor’s strong suit, but Thor gave Loki no chance to press him, continuing on quickly. “In addition to the healers, your father sent us troops” Thor’s voice was a little sour and his mouth twisted. Loki was sure he wasn’t imagining how unwelcome his _father’s_ troops had been.

“Oh?” he said simply, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut. Healers were one thing, but soldiers, _soldiers._ At least Thor seemed as unenthused at the idea as Loki. “I take it this was not appreciated?” 

“We did not ask for soldiers and we have no need for soldiers. If they had been needed, we would have requested them when we bargained for your service. There is too much distrust between our peoples, too much anger and hatred that goes back too far and runs too deep. There is no advantage to soldiers who cannot trust each other” Thor’s voice was bleeding frustration and Loki made a noise of sympathy almost involuntarily. 

“Laufey is not known for being overly concerned with what one asks for, or what one wants” Loki said, not trying to hide the bitterness that lurked behind his words. “But I am awake now, can you not simply send them back?” 

Loki knew the answer, knew it before he asked, knew it from the moment he had woken. He knew what calling his fathers minions here had done to him, knew what they would be saying on Jotunheim. The runt fails yet again. Loki was actually surprised his father bothered to send healers at all, rather than just flooding the Asgardian camp with Jotuns who truly knew how to fight. 

Thor shifted a little, uncomfortable, and his eyes didn’t meet Loki’s when he spoke. “That will be… Difficult. There seems to be some… Questions… About your role” Thor had run the words together at the end, speaking quickly as though that would somehow make them less true. 

Loki smiled a little. He couldn’t quite ignore the warmth somewhere in his sternum at Thor’s obvious discomfiture. 

“There is no need for embarrassment, Thor, it is not as though you yourself think me useless” Loki said, waiting with hitched breath for Thor to take the bait. When he did the earnestness made Loki almost glow.

“No, _no,_ of course not” Thor had leaned forward abruptly and they were once again close. He drew back a little at Loki’s smirk, expression flickering from annoyed to amused. “Ah, I see. Are all Jotuns are cruel as you?” 

Loki laughed a little, “You tell me, you have been rubbing shoulders with them for some time now.” 

Thor looked thoughtful and cocked his head slightly before replying. “There are not many and they do not all act the same” he said carefully. “Some of the lower soldiers are cruel. They seem to hate us and, forgive me, they seem to hate you with a passion.” 

Loki smiled a little. “Truer words were never spoken.” 

Thor looked at him thoughtfully but if he wanted to ask if it bothered Loki, he gave no sign, just sat back a little in his seat. 

“There are others who seem better. Once was quite concerned for you, though he only admitted as much privately” Thor said offhandedly, but the slight smile dropped off Loki’s face immediately. 

“Loki?” Thor asked. 

“Who?” Loki asked quietly, though he already knew the answer. There was only one. 

“Their commander. Thrym” Thor replied. 

_Thrym._ Loki laughed a little hysterically. Thrym was here. He wondered how Thrym had made Laufey, or more likely Gangr, send him, what threats he had trotted out to secure the mission. He would have had to fight tooth and nail for it and Loki wondered why he would bother. It was something too close to sweet, too close to romantic, and Loki flashed back to what Naglfari had said. 

_Barely out of Thrym’s bed and already you’ve found another to protect you. You must be a talented whore._

Loki was struck by a sudden image of Thor and Thrym hovering over him on his sickbed as a crowd of Jotuns peered through the tent flap and sniggered behind them. It hadn’t happened, of course it hadn’t happened, Thrym probably hadn’t even seen him, but it didn’t matter. The Jotuns that had been summoned here would have imagined it all the same. He felt cold, clammy, the rush of embarrassment almost too much to bear. 

_That’s what the healer meant. That’s what they think._

Loki had left Jotunheim and the protection of Thrym’s arms only to find another, stronger even, to coddle him, to be the strength he didn’t have. He looked at Thor, at that open face, the sincerity and concern radiating out unchecked, and felt nauseous. No one could have mistaken that for anything other than what it was, and even if Loki wasn’t willing to put a name to it, that wouldn’t have stopped the others. The healers would have seen Thor hunched over his sickbed, bringing his water and mopping his brow.

_It’s not true!_ he wanted to scream, to rage, to tell them it wasn’t true. Loki had fought, fought alongside the Aesir and not as a seiðrmaðr, but as a soldier. Every inch he’d fought for, killed for, bled for, was slipping away from him. Thor said the Aesir and the Jotnar didn’t get on, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t talk, share stories, stories of the commander and the prince. Ask the Aesir if the two princes were _close,_ sow the seeds of doubt. Loki had no proof, hadn’t left the tent, and Thor had said little, but as though he had witnessed it with his own eyes, he knew. Everything he had gained was lost. 

He started violently at a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Thor staring at him in concern. 

“Loki? Are you well? Should I fetch…?” 

“No!” Loki shouted, overloud and too quickly. “No, no, summon no one” he muttered quickly. 

“We were speaking of Thrym” Thor said, something in his voice, and at Loki’s flinch something shifted in his expression and he sat back a little. 

There was silence then, thick and overpowering, as Loki stared blankly and Thor examined him closely. When Thor finally spoke, his voice was low and rough and there was pleading in it that Loki didn’t understand. 

“Is he your…?” 

Loki didn’t reply, couldn’t reply. A part of him wanted to tell Thor they had been lovers, but that was in the past and hardly mattered now. But he had already seen too much disappear. He couldn’t utter any soft, comforting words. Any respect he had managed to gain was gone, blown away on the winds of scandal and gossip, he was sure of it. He didn’t know what he could do, how he could regain his footing or prove Thor wasn’t his lover he clung to for protection, and he knew giving Thor any kindness wouldn’t help. So Loki closed his eyes and shuffled down the bed. He turned over, showing Thor his back, and listened breathlessly to the sound of Thor standing abruptly and leaving just as quickly. 

It was too much, it was all too much. Loki felt exhausted and when his eyes began to truly droop with the weight of sleep, he whispered a little wish to never wake again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and comments, I appreciate it!


	6. Not Alone

“You will not be going alone” Thor’s voice was iron and Loki couldn’t stop his eyes closing for a moment as he heard it. 

Loki had become too accustomed to that tone over the days and weeks since he had awoken in Thor’s tent. Bruised and exhausted and weak, he had lashed out, and after Thor had left Loki alone in the tent _(his own tent,_ Loki reminded himself), their relations had been strained to say the least. 

After insisting on being moved, Loki had recovered quickly once he regained his strength and could use his seiðr. He had pushed his body hard, determined to leave his sickbed the first second he was able. Confined to bed Loki was far too vulnerable. He could not run or even walk, and so was subjected to all too frequent, and entirely unwelcome, visits from Thrym and Thor. Though Thrym’s were friendly and Thor’s were cold, they were equally taxing and equally unsolicited. 

When he had hauled himself from the bed and the tent two days after he had awoken, he had made himself scarce. Exchanging pleasantries when prompted but aside from that, he stayed secreted away, trying desperately to forget or ignore or avoid the tangled web that now surrounded him. 

Loki had panicked. He had distance enough to see that now, to see that his irrational terror had been the product of waking from his illness and being confronted by a creature that hated him, of having Thor so close and so present, of hearing Thrym was close by as well. Loki had panicked and had been paying for it ever since. 

Thor had walked the knife edge of civility since he’d stalked from his tent that morning. As Loki slowly resumed his role in the war effort (though he was expressly forbidden by Thor himself from entering the battlefield), he and Thor had clashed with ever increasing regularity. 

The continuing, and ever more unwanted, presence of the Jotuns made things worse, but nothing seemed to get under Thor’s skin like Thrym. Now the Asgardians were all but forced to conduct the war with the help of the Jotun soldiers, tactical meetings grew longer and more frequent and Thrym, as commander of the Jotun forces, was always present. 

Each time the towering giant’s presence was announced by his herald, Loki would swear he could hear Thor’s teeth grind. He all but snarled at Thrym across the war room table, cutting remarks and sneered insults. 

Loath to get between them like some maiden to be won, Loki let them tear and snap at each other, though in truth Thrym only ever responded, he never instigated. Thor was the one scoffing and huffing at Thrym’s every word. 

This, now, was the culmination of days of fighting. Days ago Loki, bored of being restricted to the camp, had proposed he be allowed to venture through the forest that surrounded the battlefield and behind Vanir lines. Thrym had supported the suggestion, telling Thor in his typically blunt fashion that he was a fool to let an asset such as Loki sit idly by. Predictably that had set off a tirade of insults, hurtling back and forth across the table. 

Tired of their endless bickering, Loki had screamed at Thrym and everyone else to leave he and Thor alone, before wheedling and cajoling Thor into considering the plan. He knew he could do it, but more than that he knew he had to get away from this place, if only for a small while. The weight of Thrym and Thor pacing around him was wearing, and Loki needed to be gone.

“Thor…” Loki said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Loki…” Thor began, his voice equal parts frustration and flat out annoyance. “You cannot truly think I would let you venture alone behind the Vanir lines. _It is not safe.”_

“Well _of course_ it is not safe. It is, after all, _war._ But you put me in more danger by assigning me some bumbling sentry. I work better alone,” Loki shot back, trying at least to be almost civil. He had more chance of getting what he wanted that way. 

Thor sighed loudly, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “When you fell in battle, was that you working better alone too?” he snapped, dropping his hands and glaring fiercely at Loki. 

“That was different” Loki hissed. “You have forbidden me from any actual fighting. Sneaking is all I am good for now, although you seem to think even that is beyond me.” 

“I do not think it _beyond you,_ no soldier would be allowed to…” Thor began, but Loki interrupted him. 

“Whomever you assign to accompany me will end up dead,” Loki declared loudly, tilting up his chin and meeting Thor’s glare head on. 

“You would kill my soldiers?” Thor said, his voice as quiet as Loki’s had been loud. 

“I would not be held responsible for what happened to your soldiers,” Loki replied icily. 

He was confident he had won. Thor wouldn’t willingly sacrifice one of his soldiers to a mission that guaranteed their death just to prove a point to Loki. 

They stood like that for a few moments more, each locked into position, until the corner of Thor’s mouth turned up a hair. Loki frowned. There was no amusement in Thor’s expression, just a sour sort of satisfaction. 

“Very well. I will go with you myself,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as he spoke. “I doubt you would let any harm come to me, now would you your highness?”

Loki was dumbfounded. Of all the idiotic things… 

“You can’t, you fool,” he snapped once he found his voice again. “Who will command your troops?” 

“My commanders are more than capable,” Thor replied calmly. 

Loki ground his teeth. “You are as inconspicuous as…”

“A frost giant?” Thor asked with a raised eyebrow, amusement now obvious in his expression. 

“You…” Loki began, but he shut his mouth quickly when Thor seized his upper arms, holding him tight enough to bruise. It had been a while since Thor had touched him, even something as inconsequential as the brush of an arm. Loki told himself he hadn’t missed Thor’s incredible warmth. 

“Loki,” Thor said, eyes impossibly blue and wide. He was so close Loki could almost feel the rumble of his voice in his own chest. He was holding his breath. “If you are to go, I am to go with you. It is not up for debate. Whatever…” 

Thor paused and swallowed loudly, Loki watching the bob of his Adam’s apple in helpless fascination. 

“Whatever hatred you feel for me will not deter me from this. I will keep you safe,” Thor’s voice was soft and Loki shivered without meaning to. 

They stood like that for a few beats, Thor’s hands seeping warmth Loki had been craving into his arms. Dimly in the back of his mind Loki knew he should be casting Thor off, spitting at him and demanding an apology for being manhandled in such a fashion. But Loki said nothing and did nothing, and they only broke apart when Thor let go, stepping back slightly and clearing his throat. 

“I… I am sorry. I should not have grabbed you like that,” Thor said, his voice a little shaky. 

Loki said nothing, just looked at him, at his huge hands that moments ago had touched him, made him feel something. Thor inclined his head slightly and made to leave, but Loki surprised himself by speaking. 

“I do not hate you,” was all he said, clamping his mouth shut the moment the words had passed his lips. 

Thor opened his mouth to speak but Loki fled before he could utter anything. Loki’s heart was fluttering in his chest and he cursed his loose tongue. He wondered briefly if he could slip out of the camp alone without Thor noticing. 

He glumly concluded it would take Thor perhaps two hours to declare him missing and flood the woods with search parties. He could avoid them easily enough, but having scores of soldiers blundering about in the forest would defeat the entire purpose of going in the first place. 

Loki sighed, but his mouth twisted a little in a begrudging smile. It wasn’t often someone outmaneuvered him, but Thor volunteering to accompany him left him with no options. He could not refuse his general, and he could not cause the prince of Asgard’s death unless he wanted to embrace his own. 

Loki frowned at the feeling deep in his gut that he sometimes couldn’t shake when his thoughts turned to Thor. It made him squirm and seethe, and he wanted to be rid of it. 

If all went according to Thor’s plan, Loki would be alone with him for days on end. The thought was… Exciting. Loki recognised the flush he felt when he thought of them together, alone, and he couldn’t bear it. 

Being dismissive of Thor, or furious at Thor, were distractions. They allowed Loki to hide, to dissemble, but with nothing between them and nowhere to escape, Loki was afraid. 

Gritting his teeth, Loki straightened his spine and set off towards the Jotun tents. He needed to see Thrym. 

* * *

Thrym’s expression was mild as he took in the bare form in front of him. Loki could see the want in his eyes, the desire that had always lain between them, but there was a reluctance he hadn’t seen before. 

“Why do you delay?” Loki asked, barely able to stop himself fidgeting with uncertainty. He wasn’t used to being off balance with Thrym. “In the past you would have had me on my back by now.” 

“But it is not the past, my prince, and you have caught the eye of another,” Thrym replied, but his eyes didn’t leave Loki’s body. 

“What are you muttering about?” Loki snapped. His stomach had plummeted at those words and he could hardly decide which would be worse; hearing Thrym speak it out loud, or leaving the words unsaid. 

“You know precisely what I am ‘muttering’ about,” Thrym’s tone was amused and this time his eyes met Loki’s. “I suppose it’s fitting, in a perverse way. Two princes, one golden and one dark…” 

“Shut up.” Loki snarled, taking a step towards Thrym and raising his hand. The older giant simply blinked up at him and Loki dropped his hand in embarrassment. 

“Tell me what you see,” Loki whispered, his eyes glued to Thrym’s chest, idly tracing the lines of his house. 

“It is unfamiliar, the heat with which he looks at you. His eyes follow you wherever you tread. His movements respond to yours. He yearns for you, and he is not subtle about showing it. The Aesir have noticed.” 

Loki shifted uncomfortably. 

“I fear he only desires what he cannot have,” Loki’s voice was still a whisper. If he spoke quietly, perhaps he could pretend he’d only thought the words and they hadn’t crossed his lips. “He yearns for the chase but not the prey.”

“And yet he does not seem to yearn much for me, and a better chase he could never hope to find,” Thrym observed, his tone so dry and familiar Loki couldn’t help but laugh. 

“He unbalances me, and I dislike the feeling,” Loki admitted abruptly. 

“Aye,” is all Thrym said in reply, and Loki felt suddenly tactless for speaking of Thor to the giant., before feeling ridiculous for the thought. 

“What did you hope for us?” he asked suddenly. This honesty was painful, but he didn’t seem able to stop now, every shadowy thought he’d denied himself now rising to the surface and being voiced. What he was loath to admit he felt for Thor was unlike what he had felt for Thrym, but he had nothing else to compare it to and he needed to know something, anything. 

Thrym’s smile was sad and Loki had to look away. “What I told myself I hoped for, or what I truly hoped for?” 

Loki was about to shrug but Thrym didn’t seem to expect an answer and continued speaking. 

“I told myself I hoped only for whatever small regard you were willing to give me, that I was fortunate to be in your bed or your favour at all and that I would happily accept anything. I told myself that so many times, it seemed only fair I’d start believing it. That’s what they say, isn’t it? But it never happened. Underneath that were my true hopes, so naïve and starry eyed I can feel a blush coming at the mere thought.” 

Loki laughed softly at that. “As if a blush has ever stained your cheek,” he scoffed, nudging Thrym with a foot. 

Thrym grinned before speaking again. “I hoped… I dreamed, I suppose, of you being… Mine.” 

“How foolish,” Loki murmured, because it ached. He wished he wanted that, wished he could have loved Thrym back, the way he can finally admit Thrym loved him. 

“I’ve never denied being a fool,” Thrym’s voice was quiet too and it sounded unnatural on the hulking giant. “But aren’t dreams supposed to be foolish, impossible, ridiculous? Of anyone, I’d have though you would see how dull it would be to only dream of things that could be, Loki.” 

“Did I hurt you terribly?” Loki asked, biting his lip as soon as he spoke, immediately rueing asking a question he didn’t want to know the answer to. 

“You hurt me a middling amount,” Thrym returned with a small smile and Loki thought _Lie, lie._ “But you never meant to. And I always knew I could never have you.” 

“You can have me right now,” Loki said, for the first time a little scared Thrym might not reject him. 

“Your body,” Thrym said. 

“Is there something wrong with my body?” Loki asked acidly, sparking a laugh from Thrym. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Thrym looked at him shrewdly and Loki knew he didn’t want to hear whatever Thrym was going to say next. “And your Aesir prince?” 

“He’s not mine,” Loki said awkwardly. 

“He would be if you asked,” Thrym replied. 

“Which I cannot.” 

“Is your pride really worth so much?” 

Loki started a little as he remembered hearing those words before, but from someone warm and golden, not from this cold and hard creature whom loved Loki with all he had. 

“What else do I have?” and it sounded melancholy and self-pitying, though he didn’t mean it to.

Thrym didn’t reply but he did reach out, huge hands settling firmly on Loki’s hips. 

“You have yourself, Loki, and you have never needed anything more.” 

Loki bit his lip. 

“You will not let me stay.” It was not a question. 

“I have no desire to see your eyes close as you imagine another,” Thrym spoke softly but Loki could hear the reproach in the older giant’s tone. Loki should not have asked. 

Loki made no acknowledgement, just gathered his discarded clothes around himself, and dressed in an instant. He turned his back on Thrym and strode from the tent. It was the last time he would seek Thrym out, and he thought the old giant knew it. 

There was nothing more to be said nor done between them. Loki’s future lay elsewhere. He took his time wandering slowly back to his own tent, and was unsurprised to see Thor lurking outside, looking thunderous. 

Loki smiled a little, thinking he perhaps knew the reason for Thor’s visit, before shaking his head and plastering a more appropriate frown across his face.

“Where have you been?” Thor demanded shortly. 

Loki let out a cruel laugh and pushed passed Thor and into his tent. The golden prince followed, restless with a nervous energy. 

“I think you know where I’ve been,” Loki said, glancing sidelong at Thor as he dismissed his serving boy and they were left alone. “I think you have been spying on me.” 

Loki raised his eyebrow at the flush that stole across Thor’s face at that. 

“I…I… I was only concerned…” Thor stammered, but Loki spared him having to continue with a light laugh. 

“Do not concern yourself, Thor, I am not angry,” he said with a sigh. Loki thought perhaps he should be angry, at being followed, at having his privacy invaded, but he felt nothing except for vaguely pleased, though that was something he would never admit. 

“You are… Not angry?” Thor said confusedly. 

“Not at the moment, but if you repeat me again I might change my mind,” Loki said, and was surprised when Thor huffed out a small laugh. 

“I would have time for very little else if I constantly guarded against angering you,” Thor said hesitantly. “

Loki blinked, sure again he should be angry, but still somehow pleased. He nodded jerkily. 

“I can be difficult to please,” he admitted, and was again surprised when Thor grinned, wide and bright. 

Loki smiled a little in return. 

“That makes you happy?” he asked, but Thor shook his head. 

“You speaking to me makes me happy,” he replied quickly. 

“Then you are easily pleased.” 

“Not of late,” Thor replied quietly. 

Loki nodded and turned away, unwilling to delve into that after his conversation with Thrym. He wasn’t himself, and he feared what talking to Thor now would do. 

”I shall see you in the morning,” he said without turning back to Thor, hoping he would take it as the dismissal it was. 

Loki could see Thor hovering for a moment, unsure about something, but Loki began moving around the tent, blowing out the torches and when he turned back to the entrance, Thor was gone. 

Which was undoubtedly for the best. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any readers see any glaring errors, please let me know!


	7. Into the Void

The day dawned cold and grey. A heavy mist hung in the air, and Loki fancied he could feel it clinging to him as he walked through it. He felt weighted down with it, the damp feeling suiting his mood. 

Loki had slept little. After Thor left his tent, Loki had stayed awake brooding. The Asgardian unsettled him, Loki could admit that much. But he shied away from facing why he was unsettled, or examining the feeling that fluttered in his chest when Thor was near. 

It felt too close to being out of control. When Thor was near him, Loki felt as though he didn’t know himself. He was capable of saying or doing anything, and the thought was terrifying. 

In the broken royal house of Jotunheim, knowing himself was the only strength he had. There was not another person he could rely on in the whole forsaken realm. There had been Thrym, but the ground between them had been littered with shattered ice and Loki could never be sure where to step to avoid cutting himself. 

Thrym had been kind to him, Loki realised now had loved him perhaps, but everything between them had been too caught up in their bodies. Thrym panted for him and held him down to the bed and fucked him and Loki had felt wanted and it was beautiful and strange in equal measure. 

No one had ever wanted Loki for his body. He had been the runt, the curse, the shame, too small to ever be considered as a mate. When Thrym had first slid his hand up Loki’s thigh and stroked him, the first time another had touched Loki, it had shook something inside of him. 

It had been foreign and frightening, and even after he became accustomed to it and there was nothing between their sheets but pleasure, Loki could never shake that skepticism. That disbelief that anyone of his own kind could want him had made ever feeling comfortable with Thrym impossible. 

Being wanted for his body had felt peculiar, and a little shameful. The uncertainty of what Thrym felt, and what Loki felt in return, had made him keep his distance. 

Thrym though had never unsettled Loki as Thor did. When Thor was near Loki felt as though he were on the cusp of something terrible, on the verge of throwing himself into an abyss just to see where it would take him. 

Loki had fought it. He had fought it with everything he had, putting as much venom and spite into the words he spat at Thor as he could. He had tried being cold and aloof, fiery and malicious, but nothing had deterred the Asgardian. 

He still looked at Loki with heat and want and something more in his gaze. The night before, Thor being so close and Loki unable to summon the energy to drive him away, the exhaustion Loki had been feeling seeped deeper into his bones. 

He had stayed up almost all the night fretting. He was about to embark on a mission that would take him and Thor into the depths of the surrounding forests and strand them alone, far from the distracting busyness of the camp. 

There would be nowhere to hide, and Loki already felt like he was unraveling. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand to push Thor away, or if he really even wanted to. 

Loki sighed and shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the morose thoughts that dogged him. He needed to ready himself for his departure. He was unsure how long they would be gone, he only knew it would be too long. 

* * *

“Are you sure about this, Thor?” the blonde idiot had worn the same insufferable expression of skepticism since Thor had announced his intention to venture into the woods and behind the Vanir lines with only Loki for company. 

Loki rolled his eyes. As if he would ever let harm come to Thor, even if there was nothing between them. He had no wish to earn Odin’s ire, to become a shade being chased through the realms or be executed after a long and torturous imprisonment. 

“Aye Fandral, I am sure. I am also sure that if you ask me again you will sleep through the next week at least,” Thor’s tone was jovial but there was a glint behind his eyes Loki smiled a little to see. 

There was something deeply satisfying about the thought of Thor defending his decision to trust Loki to his foolish friends. 

“No harm will come to your prince,” Loki said in a clear voice, staring at Fandral but addressing the entirety of the Aesir congregation who seemed to have gathered out of concern Loki was leading Thor into the jaws of death. 

“Where is the general?” the great blonde fool asked anxiously. “Thrym? What does he say to this?” 

Loki glanced around the camp sourly. Loki had seen neither hide nor hair of Thrym or indeed any of the Jotuns since he had emerged from his tent. He could see Thor slide him a glance, curious about Thrym’s absence himself. The Jotun general was usually glued to Loki’s side. 

Loki let nothing show on his face, just turned slightly away, hoping Thor and his hangers on would see he would discuss it no further. 

“The general has nothing to do with this,” Thor snapped, his patience tested and broken. “I am embarking with Loki. I do not know when I will return. Carry on without me.” 

With that, Thor turned on his heel and strode towards the tree line. Loki raised an eyebrow and followed behind him. Once they were out of sight of the tents, Loki leaned in to Thor. 

“You do not even know where we are going,” Loki laughed. 

Thor turned around and met Loki’s eye with a grin. 

“Thank you for playing along and allowing me my moment of melodrama,” Thor smiled. “Returning to my troops with my tail between my legs only to fall in line behind you would have been a blow I am unsure my ego could survive.” 

Loki’s mouth twisted. He wanted to laugh but was unwilling to allow it. He did not want to admit to finding Thor’s insufferable ego a little endearing. 

“Savor it, it is the last piece of consideration you shall get from me on this mission,” Loki’s words were cruel but there was no heat behind him. 

Thor seemed to notice, a small smile curling his lip as he motioned for Loki to lead the way. Loki nodded, tilting his chin up as he strode past Thor and deeper into the forest. There was work to be done. 

* * *

The canopy was so thick the rain barely touched the forest floor. The ground beneath their feet was dry, but something intangible hung in the air. It felt like the fog that had rested so heavily on Loki earlier, but the air was clear. There was moisture in the air, and Loki hated it. 

Loki was on edge. Edging further into the forest, further towards the Vanir lines and with Thor trailing close enough to almost touch, he was wound too tight. 

They had seen a Vanir scout in the distance a mile back and Loki had taken precautions. He was distracted with shielding them, scouting ahead, and finding a safe path to take. 

“You do not like Fandral much,” Thor observed from behind him. 

Loki started a little, surprised to hear Thor’s voice. They had been silent for hours, moving forward with caution. Loki thought for a moment about the question, before deciding there was no point lying and Thor was unlikely to care either way. 

“No. He is a vain fool,” Loki replied honestly. 

Thor chuckled, “I imagine that is why we get along so well.” 

“You are not like him, “ Loki said dismissively, too fast and too certain. 

“You think not?” Thor asked, his voice pleased. 

“You brood far too much to be anything like that conceited ass,” Loki countered. 

Thor let out a laugh at that. 

“But did you not know, Loki? I used to be happy,” Thor’s words were close to a rebuke but something in his tone and his eyes made Loki’s lips curl in a smile. 

“What changed?” Loki asked archly, knowing full well the answer. 

Thor gave him a direct look that told him he was not fooled, and leaned forward a little as he answered. 

“I met my match,” he said, all traces of revelry gone. 

Loki huffed out a breath. 

“Wordplay? From you?” Loki asked sardonically. “Will wonders never cease.” 

Thor grinned at him and Loki almost stumbled. He turned his attention back to the forest floor carefully. 

“Quiet now,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You will give us away.” 

Thor raised an eyebrow at that, but after a moment he nodded his head slightly and motioned for Loki to lead the way, wisely choosing not to mention that Loki had been the one talking. 

* * *

Loki watched stonily as Thor strung up the canvas which would serve as their meager protection from the elements. Loki did not feel the cold, but he did feel the damp and he did feel Thor’s heat. 

The canvas was small. If Loki wanted to avoid the steady dripping from the rain that managed to work its way through the canopy, he would have little choice in his proximity to Thor. 

“Give that rope a tug, Loki,” Thor grunted. Loki stared sourly for a moment before huffily reaching out to tug the rope that was wrapped around the branch beside him. 

He pulled, and the branch shook, and a shower of water fell directly onto his face, soaking his hair and his skin. Loki hissed like a cat, stiffening and glaring straight at Thor. 

“Why did you tell me to do that?!” he growled. 

Thor looked dumbfounded for a moment, then his face screwed up in what looked like pain. Loki narrowed his eyes, worried for the briefest of seconds before he realised Thor was trying not to laugh. 

“It. Is. Not. Funny!” Loki snarled, but at that Thor lost the remains of his composure. 

He howled with laughter, eyes crinkling as he doubled over, breathing laboured as he guffawed. Loki’s lip twitched a little at Thor’s laugh, so loud and unconscious and sincere. 

He muttered something and was dry once more. Thor’s laugh petered out to small chuckles, and Loki’s smile remained in place. 

“You took that well,” Thor sounded a little unsure, and his smile when Loki turned to look was hesitant. 

“Do not get used to it,” Loki muttered in return, but the smile in his voice could not be disguised. 

He turned away as Thor continued to set up their camp, planning out where the next day would take them, feeling some of the tension of the previous days drain slowly away. 

* * *

The accord lasted two more hours before falling abruptly to pieces. 

“I do not wish to speak of it,” Loki snapped irately. 

“Which implies there is something to hide,” Thor returned snappily. 

“There is not,” Loki barked. “But even if there were, it would have nothing to do with you.” 

“What did you do with him? What did you do with Thrym?” Thor’s eyes were snapping with anger and Loki was moments from breaking. 

“What do you want me to say? That we fucked? That he had me on the floor and I moaned his name? That he came inside me and his leavings linger in me still?” Loki threw the words at Thor, hoping to provoke him. 

He wanted this over with, wanted to break whatever thread held them together. Thor would leave him, stalk from the woods and rejoin the troops, and he would send Loki away. 

Thor, however, did not react the way Loki hoped. He only huffed in frustration, the sound inexplicably wounding for Loki to hear. Loki shrugged his shoulders a little awkwardly, as though to throw off the unfamiliar feeling. 

“I do not understand why you must make things so difficult,” Thor said, his voice tight with something suppressed. 

“Perhaps that is because you know nothing of me…” Loki began petulantly. He no longer even thought of his words, they just tumbled forth from his mouth without consideration. They were a reflex, a flinch he couldn’t control. 

“Stop, I cannot hear this from you again,” Thor snapped, holding up one hand as though to stop Loki’s words while the other rubbed at his eyes. 

“Hear what, the truth?” Loki asked with a sneer, but the words had barely left his mouth before Thor was snarling, up from his seat and across the space between them in what seemed little more than the blink of an eye. Loki startled as Thor’s hands grasped his front and lifted him bodily up, his toes scraping the ground as the thunder god held him high. 

Loki’s heart thundered and something deep, something _primal_ rose from inside him and before he could register a single thought, he was lying panting on the ground as Thor stumbled backwards, cursing and clutching his forearms. 

Loki started forward jerkily, an apology on the tip of his tongue. 

“Thor, I…” he stuttered, eyes affixed on the blackened skin that marred Thor’s arms. 

“Shut up, shut up you wretched creature,” Thor growled. 

Loki flinched back. _Creature,_ was something he never expected to hear from Thor in such a spiteful tone. 

“I am sorry,” Loki continued regardless, subdued and embarrassed. “It was not deliberate.” 

There was silence then. Loki refused to look at Thor again, afraid of the rage or disgust he would find in his eyes. 

“An accident?” Thor queried quietly. 

Loki frowned. 

“Of course,” Loki spoke slowly. “You… You thought I meant to hurt you?” 

Thor huffed, wincing as he examined the skin on his arms. 

“Loki, all you have ever done is try to hurt me,” he muttered, so quietly Loki was unsure if he was supposed to have heard. 

“That is unkind, your highness,” Loki hissed from between gritted teeth. 

“Unkind?!” Thor exclaimed incredulously. “You have shamed and sneered at me every day since…” 

“Since when?!” Loki exploded, enraged and finally ready to allow himself to show it. “Since you treated me like your camp whore and ensured that is all your friends would ever see? Since you throttled me and pushed me to the brink of death? Since you belittled me and told me I could not fight? _Since you stood outside my tent and asked me where I had been when it was none of your concern?”_

Loki’s breaths were coming quickly and shallowly. He was confused and angry, but more than that he was hurt. Thor was not wrong, but he had not asked Loki, had not spoken to Loki. He knew nothing of Loki’s feelings or thoughts, and his arrogance rankled. 

“Loki,” Thor began angrily, bringing his hand up to rub at his forehead. 

The skin of his arms, still black, stood as a rebuke to Loki. Loki sighed, stowing his anger for the moment. However he felt, however furious he was, he needed to make that right. 

He raised his hand and shook his head, forestalling whatever Thor was about to say. He stepped forwards carefully, taking Thor’s arms gently in his own hands. He began whispering, feeling the seiðr flow through him and into Thor’s abused skin. 

The taller man sighed quietly as the pain receded and the skin returned to its golden colour. When Loki took his hands away, there was not a mark to be seen and Thor was once more unmarred. 

Loki stepped back a little and raised his eyes to Thor’s. 

“I did not mean to hurt you, your highness,” Loki said tightly. 

“Do not call me that,” Thor whispered. 

Loki laughed humorlessly. 

“Call me Thor. I like it when you call me Thor,” his voice was soft as he stepped slowly forward and curled his hand gently around Loki’s wrists. 

“How quickly you change your mind, _your highness._ I thought all I did was shamed and sneered?” Loki made no move to draw his hands away from Thor’s grip. 

“You hurt me, that is all,” Thor murmured, his fingers drawing small circles on the delicate, cool flesh of Loki’s wrists. “You have always hurt me.” 

Loki shivered a little but said nothing. The feel of Thor’s hands was hypnotic and Loki craved more even as he told himself he should draw back. They stood standing there together for what seemed like a long time, so close Loki could feel the puff of Thor’s breath on his cheek. 

“Why will you not let me go?” Thor’s voice was plaintive and Loki felt a sliver of pity. 

“It is not I who holds you, Thor,” Loki sighed, his voice as soft as he could make it. 

“No? Then who? A creature with your face haunts my dreams and whispers in my ear,” Thor’s eyes were cast aside and Loki wondered if he really wanted to be saying these things. 

“In this, you are your own victim. If you would simply allow yourself to forget…” 

Loki was surprised by the bark of laughter Thor let out at that, loud and harsh in the night air. 

“You truly think it so simple? Allow myself to forget? You truly think I haven’t tried that? That forgetting has not been my sole care, my sole aim, for these months? You think me so ignorant to think there is a happy ending for this, for us?” 

Thor’s breath was coming fast and laboured, his chest rising and falling as he stared straight at Loki. 

“Us?” Loki questioned, trying to spit it, to throw it in Thor’s face, but it came out desperate. 

“No, Loki,” Thor continued as though Loki had not spoken, “the only question in the ending is who deals the final blow. You cannot love me and I cannot help but love you and it will be the end of us both.” 

“Then _stop,”_ Loki said, desperation bleeding into his tone. _Love,_ was pounding through his head, and though he’d known it for weeks, the sound of the word was a presence between them. It was so warm Loki knew if he stepped too close it would burn, burn through his armour and his skin and through his heart and leave nothing in its wake. 

“I cannot _give_ myself Thor. I am all I have, if I give part of myself to you, what am I then? Broken, even more broken. I cannot keep watching parts of myself splinter and fall, I cannot,” Loki breathed. 

“I would keep you whole, Loki,” Thor’s eyes were huge and Loki was struggling to breathe. How could anyone be so earnest? 

“I fear you do not know how,” Loki whispered. 

“You fear too much,” Thor muttered back, almost under his breath, and the haze that had been descending over Loki halted in its tracks. 

“I fear too much? Odinson you know _nothing_ about me,” Loki could hear the hiss in his own voice and the vehemence was a little shocking. Did he really care so much? “You think you know fear, you breathe it, you live it, but fear has never touched you. You stride through wars and foes fall before you, they know your name before you step foot on the field of battle. You walk Asgard’s hallowed halls and they _sigh_ as you pass, and _you are loved, what do you know of fear?”_

Loki sat back, panting a little as he drew a gasped breath. His skin felt too tight, he wanted to launch himself at Thor, to tear at his horrible golden skin and expose the ugly viscera underneath. 

“I knew fear as you lay in that bed, Loki,” Thor’s voice is low and there is something in it that catches at Loki, paralyzes him in his seat and he realises he cannot deny this forever. That perhaps he doesn’t want to. 

“I knew fear as I kept vigil and watched you struggle to breathe, struggle to live. I knew fear wondering if you would meet your end at my hand.” 

“Stop, stop,” Loki whispered frantically, though he had never wanted anything less. He wanted Thor to keep going, to never stop. 

Loki could feel them teetering on the edge of something there would be no coming back from. If Thor said it, said what they had been dancing around since Loki closed his hand around Thor’s hand and left him a small ice sculpture and a head full of questions, Loki knew he did not have the strength to resist. His anger was a mask, and he was waiting for Thor to tear it off and throw it aside 

He was tired, tired of denying himself, tired of not being able to take what he wanted, of worrying about consequences and propriety and appearances, while all around him people reveled and took exactly what they wanted. 

Loki was ready to throw himself into the void. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the sporadic updates, but thank you to everyone still reading, kudosing (?) and reviewing.


	8. A Piece of Your Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finally earns the story its rating, there's explicit sex so be warned.

Loki wondered if Thor felt the shift. The profound, tectonic change that had occurred within Loki, sweeping him from terror to hunger. He wanted to take what Thor offered, to claim what he had craved even before he met Asgard’s perfect prince. To steal a piece of the golden realm’s soul and clutch it possessively to his chest. 

Thor was shivering, but the air didn’t seem overly cold to Loki. Admittedly he was no expert, but he suspected Thor shook for a different reason. The thought of Thor shaking for him, trembling for him, sent a shudder through Loki in response.

Thor hadn’t spoken again after Loki had pleaded with him to stop. He simply stood, mute and wretched under the canopy of their meager shelter. 

“You’re shaking,” Loki observed quietly. 

“That is all you have to say?” Thor sounded miserable, and Loki felt the briefest pang of guilt at being responsible for that misery. 

But Thor had chosen this, no matter what he said. Loki had never been, could never be, a creature who trailed joy in his wake. Loving Loki, even something as crude as simply wanting Loki, would never be the road to happiness, and Thor must have known that all along. 

Besides, his misery wasn’t going to last. Loki was ready to give in and he trembled with the thought. He fixed his gaze on the golden prince, the most perfect being he had ever laid eyes on. 

“No. That is not all I have to say,” Loki murmured. 

He shifted forward, Thor’s hands sliding across his wrists, the feel of that warm grip so welcome Loki had all but forgotten it. Thor was so close and so achingly flawless and Loki _wanted._ Since Loki had first spied the heights of the god’s perfection in the ripples of his bathwater in Asgard, little more than a glance, he had never allowed himself to imagine. 

He had never allowed himself to wonder what Thor’s hands, lips, teeth, _skin,_ would feel like pressed against him. How Thor’s breath would feel as it puffed against Loki’s throat with each thrust. How Thor would feel afterwards, slick and spent and warm. 

Loki couldn’t deny himself everything, though. He had dreamed of Thor, deep in his sleep when his thoughts escaped his grasp and ran streaming before him, ignoring his pleas to stop. But any memory, any slight recollection of the gasps his dream-Thor had wrung from him Loki ruthlessly repressed. 

But he no longer had to pretend. He could let go of the suppression he had clung to for so long, let himself dream. Loki’s breaths quickened as he allowed himself to _feel._ Thor was offering more than something physical, more than heat and sweat, grunts and moans, but for the moment all Loki cared about was the _feel._ The sensation of Thor so close, so present, so submissive. Loki had the power, and he reveled in it. 

Loki closed his eyes and saw Thor’s lips tracing down his throat, sliding over the skin of his stomach and seeking under the heavy robes he had taken to wearing around the Aesir. Searching and finding Loki’s cock, wrapping his warm, pink lips around him and sucking. The most powerful being in the nine realms on his knees, swallowing what Loki gave him and grateful for the privilege. 

Loki felt blood rush to his cheeks at that. Thor would moan for it, beg for it, he _craved _it. Loki looked up at Thor from beneath his lashes, sick of waiting and wondering, desperate to wonder no longer.__

Thor looked surprised for a moment before his expression turned wondrous. He let go of Loki’s wrists, but before Loki could mourn the loss and step back, wondering how he could have so completely misread Thor’s words and looks and touch, the Asgardian’s hand was travelling up to Loki’s face. 

Loki stayed still and watched in amazement as Thor brushed the backs of his fingers gently down Loki’s cheek. He stared at Thor, astonished, and watched him swallow harshly. 

“You’re blushing,” Thor breathed, his voice a little awed. 

Loki opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Thor smiled softly, and Loki let out a shaky breath, reminding himself he was _Loki_ and the god in front of him wanted to kneel and worship him. He had no need to feel off balance. 

“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Loki snapped back, his wits recovered. 

“I can feel it,” Thor murmured, pressing his fingers to Loki’s cheek with a little more force even as he frowned in confusion. “It’s cold.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. 

“Well of course it’s cold. It’s blood,” he sniffed. “Do you know nothing about Jotuns?” 

Thor laughed and Loki felt it shake Thor’s fingers, still resting lightly on Loki’s skin. 

“The only thing I was ever taught about Jotuns was where to aim,” he observed, his grin a little sharp. 

Loki arched an eyebrow. 

“Oh?” he began, smirking as he saw his chance. 

Loki cocked his head before grabbing Thor’s hand harshly, pulling it from Loki’s face and pressing it hard against his chest. Thor’s palm felt huge through the layers of fabric that separated them, heat seeping through the cloth and into his flesh. Loki looked up with fire in his eyes as he spoke. 

“Here,” he hummed, letting the vibrations rattle through his chest and Thor’s hand. 

“Certainly,” Thor replied with the barest echo of a nod. 

Thor’s expression was pole axed, he could hardly have looked more surprised if Loki had taken to all fours and begged to be mounted. Loki smiled again. 

Whatever had shook Thor earlier, and it could not have been the cold, was racking through his body more ferociously by the second. Loki left one of Thor’s hands on his chest and grabbed his other, carefully wrapping it around himself and drawing them close together, Thor’s hand splayed across his spine. Thor’s tremors shook them both and the heat was spreading. 

“Here,” Loki’s voice was barely a breath, audible only because they were standing so close as to almost be one. 

Thor pressed his hand against the centre of Loki’s back, pushing gently until they stood pushed tightly chest to chest, Thor’s hand the only thing between them. 

“Of course,” Thor whispered in return, his breath dancing across Loki’s cheek and over his lips. 

“Here,” Loki repeated as he slid Thor’s hand up from where it rested on Loki’s chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. 

Loki twisted it through his own hair, threading Thor’s fingers through the fine strands until his great hand was cradling the back of Loki’s head. 

“The skull, yes,” Loki could feel Thor’s heart, thumping so loudly it seemed as though it was threatening to burst from his chest. 

“And here,” Loki murmured with an air of finality, shifting Thor’s hand from Loki’s back to wrap tightly around his throat. 

Loki’s breath caught for a moment. It was almost too much, too intimate. The last time Thor’s hand had enclosed his throat, Loki had slipped close to death. He had no fear Thor would hurt him, but there was so much trust in the gesture Loki felt laid bare. 

It felt too close to lying down and baring his throat and his belly to Thor. Loki shivered with the thought that soon he’d do more than that, soon he’d spread his legs and take Thor inside of him. He felt out of control. 

Loki wanted be taken, and he wanted to run, and as his mind flitted back and forth he shivered. Thor pushed gently with his hand, tilting Loki’s head back, exposing his throat even as he cradled his skull more carefully. 

Loki was poised for it, waiting for Thor to take him, to claim him. He had pushed and now he wanted for Thor to push back; he was sure he was about to get his wish. Loki had read before of the softness of a lover’s embrace, the sweetness of their touch, and had never wanted anything less. He wanted red-hot pain, he wanted to tear Thor open and claim whatever was inside of him. Gentle handling, careful caressing, were useless to him. 

“Loki,” Thor’s voice throbbed through Loki even as his lips descended slowly to the Jotun’s neck. 

“Thor,” Loki whispered as he tried to draw in breath. 

Thor’s lips were a brand against Loki’s skin. They felt as though they were burning through the flimsy layer of skin that separated the princes’. Thor was close and there and Loki wanted to wrap himself up in Thor, luxuriate in his warmth and the power of his touch. 

Loki wanted to see Thor’s strength, to feel the body that had torn men limb from limb in their war and countless others turned on him. Thor was iron, and Loki wanted it wrapped around him, biting into his flesh as it ripped him apart. 

Thor was mouthing at Loki’s neck. His tongue laved across the coarse skin, along the lines of his house Loki realised with a small frown. He knew Thor had seen him, had probably seen all of him as he’d been bathed and swaddled as he lay on his deathbed in Thor’s tent. But the tracings that marked him Jotun, marked him Laufeyson even if neither the father nor the son could bear to admit it, felt private. 

“You don’t think them sensitive, do you?” he asked breathlessly, trying to inject a little strength into his voice and failing. 

Thor drew back a little, his hands still cradling Loki’s skull while clutching his throat possessively. His eyes were wide and so blue Loki felt like he was drowning. 

“What?” Thor murmured confusedly with a frown. 

“My markings,” Loki clarified with an arched brow. 

“They… Are not?” Thor’s frown deepened as Loki laughed. 

“They are skin, same as the rest,” Loki shrugged. 

Seized by an idea and desperate to regain control, Loki grinned before reaching forward to tear Thor’s tunic at the throat. Thor made no noise of protest as Loki ripped the fabric, but his hands dropped from Loki’s throat and skull to rest instead on his hips. 

It felt unspeakably intimate, but Loki ignored the feeling in favor of the hot skin in front of him. He pulled the torn cloth down to expose a scar he had seen in passing before. He had ached to ask the story behind it, but pride had stopped him from admitting he had looked at all. 

“Is this sensitive?” Loki asked a little maliciously, showing his teeth as he smiled. 

Loki locked eyes with Thor as he lowered his head and licked a stripe across the silvery skin. Above him, Thor gasped just as Loki sank his teeth in deep. 

“Loki!” Thor yelped. 

“Is that a yes?” Loki enquired, licking a stripe up from the raised scar to the unblemished skin of Thor’s neck. 

“No…” Thor gulped in a breath before continuing. “Not until _bitten,_ anyway.” 

“You talk as if you don’t like it,” Loki sneered before biting down again, harder, aching to break the skin and taste the god’s blood. 

“Loki!” Thor barked again. “You are…” Loki felt rather than saw Thor shake his head. 

He didn’t continue, and Loki wondered what he had planned to say. Mad? Cruel? Vicious? All true, but Thor said nothing. Loki mouthed at Thor, hesitant and unsure once more. The Asgardian’s grip on his hips tightened even as he spoke. 

“What changed?” Thor asked, his voice deep but soft. 

Loki softened his teeth’s grip on Thor’s skin a fraction as the words hung in the air between them. He thought of feigning ignorance, of asking what Thor meant, begging for an explanation. But there would be no point, and Loki already knew he’d lost. 

“I decided to take what I want,” Loki gritted out, stepping back to glare balefully at Thor. 

The blonde god frowned as he reached out to run a thumb along the line of Loki’s jaw. 

“I don’t understand you,” Thor whispered, eyes impossibly wide. 

“You were never meant to,” Loki responded, truthful for once. 

There was nothing else to be done. Loki loathed the idea of fate, but there was no other word for the inexorable pull that hooked behind his breast and pulled him towards Thor. 

“Enough of these games,” Thor stated, iron in his voice. 

His eyes, pupils blown wide, pinned Loki in place. 

“Do I get no say?” Loki snapped, frightened, always so frightened to give in. 

“I must be the greatest fool in the nine realms for thinking any of this would be easy,” Thor sighed in reply. 

“Always a fool,” Loki nodded, unable to hide his small smile. 

“Are you going to bite and claw me if we lie together?” Thor asked with the smallest glimmer of a laugh. 

“You’ll be lucky if that is all I do,” Loki retorted. 

“Loki,” Thor huffed, laughing exasperatedly. “We are the only ones here and I won’t breath a word if you wish it. You’ve nothing to fear.” 

Loki wanted to shriek with laughter, to throw Thor’s consideration back in his face. _Nothing to fear._ What an absurdity. He had everything to fear, but Thor was right in a way. It was all miles away, worlds away. Here, alone, removed from everyone who wished him dead and gone, Loki could pretend, but that fear still gnawed at him. 

“I…” Loki began, unsure of what to say.

He wanted Thor, but doubt was heavy in his gut. He had no wish to be the prince’s whore and if he let Thor take him, what more could he ever be? He was stalling, prodding and needling Thor to delay, delay, always delay. If he became Thor’s, he would no longer be his own. 

“Loki,” Thor grasped him roughly around the waist, fingers digging into his flesh and drawing an aborted gasp from Loki’s lips. 

“I will keep you whole,” Thor repeated his words from earlier, his eyes blazing, and Loki began to believe. There was nothing more to say. 

“I will hold you to that, Odinson,” Loki said shakily, and before the words were even out of his mouth Thor’s hands were at his collar. 

The ripping sound echoed throughout the woods and Loki cried out at the night air on his skin. His skin was trilling with the need to feel Thor on him, _in_ him and every touch was a brand. Thor continued to tear, stripping Loki of his robes even as his hands groped at his flesh. 

Thor’s touch, something close to tender before, had turned rough and demanding and Loki wanted _more._

“Take off your clothes,” Loki demanded breathlessly. “I want to see you.” 

Thor wasted no time on teasing or seducing. He stripped as any military man would, naked in seconds. Loki let his eyes feast on the sight of the golden god before him. 

Thor was something to behold. His hair was sparse across his body, his chest and stomach smooth, but his cock, already beginning to thicken, rose from a patch of coarse dark blonde hair that trailed down his thighs. 

Loki’s eyes lingered, drinking the Asgardian in. Thor’s skin was smooth, marred only by a few lurking ropey, silvery scars. One trailed low across his hip, while another twisted up from his knee and wound around his thigh. Loki knew he would find more on his back, and wanted desperately to know the story behind each one. 

He wanted to touch them, to run his tongue over every imperfection if only to remind himself Thor had some, that Loki wasn’t the only one with flaws. Loki panted. His dreams, the dreams he pretended he’d never had, the dreams that had gifted him nights of restless, rutting sleep, were nothing to this. 

“You are…” Loki spoke unwillingly, voice cracking before he blushed again. 

“As are you,” was all Thor replied with a reverent smile. 

He crowded into Loki’s space, pulling off the remnants of Loki’s robes as he went, dropping them heedlessly to the ground. 

“Come,” Thor growled, before pushing Loki unceremoniously backwards to their bedrolls. 

They had assembled a sort of windbreak behind where they had lain their sleeping mats, offering a little protection. Loki wrapped his arms soundly around Thor’s neck, pressing in tight. Thor’s skin was soft but his cock was stiff between them, jabbing Loki when the god suddenly picked him up. 

Loki gasped a surprised laugh, embarrassed only for a moment before Thor’s answering grin drove the feeling from him. Thor clutched Loki, grunting when Loki wrapped his legs tight around the blond’s waist, his erection nestling in the crack of Loki’s ass. His hands cupped Loki’s rear and Loki wondered for a giddy moment if Thor was going to fuck him up against a tree. 

A second later though, Loki felt Thor lowering them to the ground, careful not to jostle Loki as he lay him on his back on the soft fur that covered his sleeping mat. The frenzied touching and tearing and grabbing slowed down as Thor straightened up, rising on his knees to loom over Loki. 

Loki felt vulnerable on his back, his legs still spread around Thor’s waist. When Thor looked down at Loki, looked down to where his cock lay eager against his stomach and then lower still, Loki wanted to hide his face. 

His arm moved a little spasmodically, desperate to cover himself, but Thor’s smile stopped him, and he even smiled hesitantly in return. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this,” Thor whispered, reaching down to knead his hands languorously across Loki’s hips. 

Loki said nothing, just lay there and waited. Without the frantic edge, Loki felt excruciatingly nervous. He had only ever done this with Thrym. It was easier when there was no time for thoughts to form, only sensations and need coursing through him. This leisurely pace left Loki too much room for doubt. 

Thor only continued to stare though, feasting his eyes on Loki. It felt strange but right, and Loki needed more. This waiting was ruining him. Thor reached out beside them and tugged one of the heavy fur blankets that lay discarded towards him, pulling it over his back. Loki frowned before realising Thor must be cold; Loki’s skin offered no respite from the chill of the air. 

Loki drew a sharp breath in as Thor slowly lowered himself to Loki, closing his eyes just to concentrate on the feel of Thor all around him. Thor was all Loki could see, blonde and blue and golden and everywhere. Loki trembled as Thor leant down to claim Loki’s lips with his own, realising even as they brushed against each other the kiss was their first. 

Thor’s mouth was warm and wet, and Loki couldn’t help moaning into it, opening himself for the soft intrusion of Thor’s tongue. It felt so sweet, Thor holding himself carefully on his elbows so as not to crush Loki beneath him. Loki could feel Thor trembling with the effort of holding himself back, of treating Loki with care. 

Loki pressed up, digging his heels into the fur to thrust against Thor, their cocks rubbing idly between them. Thor moaned and Loki plunged his tongue into the god’s mouth, nipping lightly at his lower lip as they drew apart. 

“I knew you would bite,” Thor huffed with a laugh, Loki answering with a bright grin and another nibble. 

“You like it,” Loki smirked. 

“Aye,” was all Thor said in return, dragging his teeth down Loki’s neck and across the hard line of his collarbone. 

Loki ran his hands over Thor’s back in return, grasping but finding no purchase on the silken skin that sheathed his muscle. They moved against each other, sweat from Thor and pre-spend from both of them easing the way. 

“Thor,” Loki moaned unashamedly. 

He would have this, he would _take this,_ he thought as he rutted mindlessly up against Thor, desperate for more contact, more friction, more anything. 

Loki pulled Thor down, mouthing over the soft skin of Thor’s neck before biting down. Thor’s yelp of surprise turned into a moan as Loki sucked as hard as he could, tonguing the skin. 

“Loki,” Thor whispered reverentially, pulling back slightly to gaze into Loki’s eyes. “You’re beautiful, gods, you’re so beautiful…” 

Another time, Loki would have sneered or snarled, but with Thor resting heavily on top of him all Loki could do was moan again. _Beautiful_ sounded sinful coming from Thor’s mouth, and Loki couldn’t help but believe it. 

Thor thought Loki beautiful and it made him the worst sort of fool, but Loki still thrilled at the thought. Thor, brought low by an obscene desire to rut in the mud, to go searching for a mate amongst monsters. Loki didn’t know who was madder, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Thor, heavy above him, and the damp heat of his cock against Loki’s hip. 

Thor seized Loki’s hand, pressing it to his cheek and holding it there as he laid his own hand to Loki’s chest in return, running his thumb lightly across Loki’s erect nipple. 

Loki gazed at the deep indigo of his own skin, the tracery of the markings he had always hated, against the light golden tan of Thor. Thor was right, there was beauty here, but it wasn’t in Loki alone. It was between them, lying twined together as they took what they could. 

Thor leaned down to claim Loki’s lips once more before leading his lips over Loki’s cheek to the sensitive skin at his hairline. Thor’s breaths were erratic in Loki’s ear, and his voice came in stuttered puffs. 

“Loki, do you… Have… I need…” Thor panted. 

Loki wondered what he meant until Thor’s fingers trailed down his stomach, teasing lightly against his cock before pressing gently between his spread thighs. Loki had oil with his things, but the feel of Thor there, so close to being inside of him, was too much. 

He couldn’t bear searching for anything, and instead muttered quietly and savored the sound of Thor’s breath hitching as his fingers began running through the slick Loki had conjured. 

“Loki,” Thor’s voice was all wonder, but Loki didn’t have time to bask in it before Thor slid his thumb inside. 

Loki panted as Thor circled gently inside of him, pressing in deep before easing back out. His thumb disappeared and Loki whined at the loss of it, before Thor pressed back in with two fingers. It was too soon and it ached a little, but it was somehow still perfect. Loki arched his back, trying to work Thor deeper inside him, take him in further. 

“You like that,” Thor said darkly. 

Loki nodded, closing his eyes to somehow avoid that voice. He liked it, he loved it even, but he still wasn’t sure that he should. 

“Open your eyes,” Thor commanded. “I want to see you.” 

Loki resisted for a moment, frowning as he closed his eyes more tightly, but Thor pressed down inside of him, massaging something that made Loki see stars. His eyes flew open and he met Thor’s gaze, shivering at the heavy want that stood plainly in the god’s face. 

“You’re perfect like this,” Thor murmured, slowing his fingers down and stretching Loki more gently. 

He carefully slipped a third finger inside without pain, just a hot glide and Loki felt ready, so ready. Thor was caressing inside of him, working his fingers in and out, curling and twisting, and taking such care Loki felt as though he would break. 

_“Harder,_ Thor, gods it has to be harder,” Loki all but sobbed. 

Loki gasped as Thor latched his teeth down onto Loki’s nipple. He released it, running his tongue across the hardened nub gently as though in apology before biting again, scattering Loki’s thoughts besides _More, more._

Thor started thrusting his fingers into Loki, deeper and rougher, approaching pain, and Loki begged for more. 

“Yes, please, _Thor,”_ he gasped, driving his hips down in time with Thor’s fingers. 

Three fingers became four, the last working in alongside the others as Thor fucked him hard and fast, though not as deep. Loki muttered for more slick, Thor groaning at the feeling. Loki was soaking, Thor’s fingers barely catching as they slipped in and out. He was ready and needy, shakily pulling Thor’s fingers out and grasping the Asgardian by the hips. 

“Now, Thor, now,” Loki begged, his voice low and desperate. 

Thor groaned as he mouthed at Loki’s neck, moving his hips back and forth and sliding his cock slowly through the mess of pre-spend that decorated Loki’s hip. 

“Are you…” Thor began, his voice ragged with desperation. 

_“In me Thor, now, please”_ Loki choked out and with another deep groan, Thor was fumbling between his legs. 

Loki had only a moment to tense before Thor thrust smoothly in with one motion. Loki relished the slight burn, throwing his head back to moan wantonly. He abandoned Thor’s hips in favor of clutching his arms around the god, nails digging cruelly into his back. 

Thor moaned and began to thrust in earnest, pushing the air from Loki’s lungs as he took him. Loki writhed, wrapping his legs tight around Thor, digging his heels into the god’s ass and clasping them together. 

He felt unbelievably full, _whole,_ as though he had been searching for this. They fit like Thor was a missing part of himself and Loki never wanted to be broken again. 

Loki wasn’t sure how long they went for, time had stopped the moment Thor breached him. There was leashed power in the tense form of Thor above him, moving deep and fast but still careful. Nonsense fell from both of their lips, promises and endearments Loki couldn’t remember a second after they were spoken. 

It didn’t feel real, a welter of heat and sweat and fumbled kisses that missed their mark. Loki had never felt anything like it, and when he felt his orgasm building deep in his gut he closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on the feeling. It began as a slow burn deep, curling up from the slick slide of Thor inside him and running sparks along his nerves, trailing down his legs and up his chest. 

Loki came without a sound, just a sharp intake of breath as he clutched at Thor’s arms and spilled between them, slicking their bellies. 

“Loki,” Thor sighed, and Loki smiled at him. 

He kept smiling as Thor raised himself up on his knees, grabbing Loki’s legs and spreading them wide as he fucked him hard and fast. Loki groaned, sensitive as each brush of Thor’s cock within him sent tiny waves of pleasure edged with pain up his spine. 

Thor’s grip on his legs faltered and Loki squeezed Thor tight as he felt the god ride out his release. Thor collapsed heavily against Loki, warmth and wetness filling the Jotun as he came inside him. 

They lay like that, still entwined, until their breathing slowed and Thor eased off with a short, sweet kiss to Loki’s lips before collapsing beside him. The panic of earlier had dissipated and all Loki felt was sated. With Thor’s release slicking his insides and his thighs, and with the heavy presence of the god lying by his side, Loki could admit to himself how desperately he had wanted this. How desperately he wanted it still. 

He knew there would be a price to pay. The runt prince didn’t get to have the Odinson without consequences, and Loki knew even though he had Thor, he could never keep him. He intended to make it worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that chapter sort of got away from me and ended up much longer than I intended. It's been a while since I wrote any smut, I'm a bit rusty :) Thanks to everyone reading!


	9. Backwards and Forwards

The night was silent around them, the noises of the animals creeping and crawling swallowed up under the sound of Loki’s heart and the rushing of his blood. 

Thor was a burning presence at his side and lingering still on his skin. Loki knew he would never scour it away, knew he would feel Thor with him until his last breath. 

Loki lay waiting for the panic to set in at that thought. He had been claimed, he could not deny that, and he tensed for the oncoming horror to wash over him. But nothing came. He lay sated, content to simply listen to the sound of Thor beside him and think of nothing. 

“Loki,” the softness of Thor’s voice pulled Loki from his reverie. 

He cracked an eye to look at Thor, propped up on his elbow and looming over Loki. 

“Thor,” was all Loki said back. 

He felt no need to fill the silence between them. It was peaceful and unquestioning, no urgency or fear intruded and Loki wanted to hold onto that as long as he could. Thor, however, seemed to have other ideas. 

“Loki,” he repeated, shuffling closer to lie his body alongside Loki’s, their skin pressed lightly together. 

“We must speak,” Thor continued when Loki made no reply. 

Loki sighed. 

“Loki,” Thor prompted more insistently, prodding gently at Loki’s side in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Are you this tiresome with all of your conquests? You’re worse than a maid,” Loki murmured, peering at Thor through half-closed eyes. 

He laughed loudly when Thor blushed then spluttered objections. 

“I am no maid,” he huffed, glaring stonily down at Loki. 

“No, but you cling and whine like one,” Loki observed with an arched eyebrow, laughing again as Thor’s expression changed to hurt. 

“That’s cruel,” he said sombrely. “I only wish to…” 

“To speak, I know,” Loki sighed again. “To discuss, to examine, to question. Can we not just, for a moment, enjoy?” 

Thor frowned at that, his expression suspicious as though he doubted Loki’s sincerity. Which he could hardly be blamed for, Loki could admit. 

“Please,” Loki breathed, not above trickery as he curled closer into Thor’s warmth and let his fingers dance across the god’s skin. 

“You don’t play fair,” Thor grumbled. 

“I never claimed to,” Loki smirked in reply, running his finger in circles around Thor’s hardened nipple. 

“Loki,” Thor groaned. “Stop, stop, you must stop!” 

Thor’s final objection was accompanied by his hand grabbing Loki’s wrist, planting a kiss on it gently before pushing it away. Loki glared, embarrassed. 

“I see,” Loki spat, moving away as he made to get up. “Once an adventure, twice a folly?” 

He got his hands under himself and was about to stand when he was upended, squawking indignantly as Thor pulled Loki down to sprawl across him. 

“Stop that, now,” Thor commanded, his voice growling in his chest. “You’ll not speak so of this.” 

“I did not wish to speak at all,” Loki griped, but he turned his cheek against Thor’s collarbone and rested there. 

“We must speak, Loki. I must know,” Thor’s voice was so gentle and his skin so warm, Loki sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Thor let Loki slither off his chest to lie back down on their bed of furs, gazing up at the blank stretch of canvas above them as though he could see the stars. 

“What _must_ you know?” Loki asked, eyes sliding to Thor who continued to lean on his elbow regarding Loki. 

“Why did you change your mind?” Thor asked, vulnerability leaking into his tone. 

“I told you,” Loki returned, looking away again. 

“Not really,” Thor disagreed. “You told me _what_ you decided, not _why_ you decided it.” 

“Semantics,” Loki snapped before shaking his head at how quick he was to anger and then softening his tone. “I always wanted this. All that changed is I stopped denying myself.” 

As his words were met by silence, Loki glanced at Thor. His breath caught when he saw the soft smile on the god’s face. 

“Always?” Thor asked gently, stopping Loki from answering by pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Loki ignored the cool feel of blood running to his cheeks and simply bit out, “Always,” gruffly. 

He felt rather than saw Thor smile against his throat where he was peppering soft kisses. 

“I could ask you the same. Why do _you_ want this?” Loki asked, trying for arch but sounding closer to desperate. 

Loki didn’t mean ‘this,’ he meant ‘me,’ and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Thor’s answer. He turned on his side and buried his face against Thor’s chest. Thor tensed beside him, hearing the word Loki did not speak. 

“You want assurances? Shall I write you a sonnet?” Thor teased, but his voice was tinged with sorrow. 

“Spare me, please,” Loki huffed a breath against Thor’s chest, but he carried on. “Why not someone… Golden. Like you.” 

Thor was silent so long Loki thought the god must be cross. He hunched his shoulders slightly and began to draw away only to be stopped by Thor’s iron grip around him. He knew this introspection was a mistake. 

“Loki, I know you think me vain, but even I would not fall in love with myself.” 

That startled a laugh from Loki, the peals loosening the tension that plagued him. He relaxed into Thor, chasing that impossible heat. 

“You’ve said that before,” Thor observed lazily, peering at Loki over his chest. “Golden.” 

Loki lay silent for long moments. He wanted to answer, but worried what it would cost him. Thor had been inside him, had been inside so deep Loki knew he would always feel him. But it was only his body. Loki would forever fear handing over a piece of his soul. 

“When I was young…” Loki began and was immediately interrupted by an aborted laugh from Thor. 

“What?” Loki snapped, annoyed. 

“I’m sorry, I was just imagining you young,” Thor murmured, pressing an apologetic kiss to Loki’s hairline. 

“Interrupt me again and I’ll say nothing,” Loki retorted sharply. 

Thor sighed and settled down onto his back once more, nodding to Loki in agreement. 

“When I was young my only dream was to leave Jotunheim. You’ve seen the contempt in which the soldiers hold me. On Jotunheim it is not only the soldiers. It is my father, his advisers, the court, servants even. The lowliest creatures on that forsaken rock look down their noses at me and sneer,” bitterness seeped into Loki’s voice, the impotent anger he’d felt his entire life lurking in the shadows. 

Thor’s arm tightened, pulling Loki tight to his chest. Loki closed his eyes, focusing on Thor solid and warm around him, chasing away the emptiness that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought of the barren wastes of Jotunheim. He drew a breath and continued, steeling himself and schooling his voice to remain flat. 

“I dreamed. I dreamed of other realms, I dreamed of somewhere else, anywhere else. I mastered the art of seiðr and took myself across the Nine Realms with it. I was free but still trapped. When we first met I told you I had been to Asgard, and I had. But only as a shade. Whatever protections the golden realm has, they work only too well against one such as me. I could never truly _feel_ it, feel the place around me, but I could watch. And I could see the light, the _light_ Thor. Asgard shone, just as you shine. Golden.” 

Loki spoke the last word so softly it was almost swallowed by the night around them. There was more to the story, more to say, but the words stuck in Loki’s throat. Thor was drawing out things Loki had no intention of telling him, he needed to stop before he had no secrets left. Thor eventually broke the silence. 

“You are welcome there now,” Thor began passionately, but Loki cut him off with a harsh laugh. 

“Oh Thor, you are a fool,” Loki barked, laughing with affection. 

“It is not foolish,” Thor said quietly. 

“You cannot think…” 

“I cannot think what?” Thor exploded, tense suddenly as he seized Loki by the arms, sitting up a little and bringing their faces close together. “That it is my realm? That my father rules? That I will rule someday? That I can have what I want, and you are what I want?” 

Loki gaped, no words coming to his mind or his lips. 

“If you think I would let any stop me from taking you to Asgard by my side, you are as mistaken in me as you seem to think I am in you,” Thor’s voice shook with something repressed and his eyes were over bright. 

He released Loki and thumped back down, huffing out a breath and laying his arm across his eyes. Loki felt uncertain. He reached tentatively for Thor, but when he lay his hand on the god Thor tensed and Loki flinched. 

“Thor, I…” Loki began, but stopped immediately. 

He didn’t know what to say, so he settled on a truth he knew Thor wanted to hear. 

“I want to go with you,” Loki whispered. 

“Will you stand by my side?” Thor asked without uncovering his eyes. 

Loki bit his lip. It was one thing to return to Asgard; officially he was their ally, their trusted aide. It was another to return on the arm of the prince. Loki knew ‘by my side’ meant ‘as my consort,’ and he shied away from the thought. 

“We are not equals. They will not accept me,” Loki protested weakly. 

“In Asgard, we are whatever I say we are,” Thor replied firmly. 

“Have you ever been denied a thing?” Loki huffed, frustrated. 

Thor couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t understand how close a consort was to a whore and how submitting could ruin Loki. Loki didn’t have the luxury of making decisions and expecting others to abide. Thor had more power than any being in the Nine Realms, save for Odin. Loki had whatever power he could grasp, and he was loath to part with a scrap of it. 

“You denied me for months,” Thor pointed out huffily. 

“And then I gave into you,” Loki reminded him with a hiss. 

“You gave into _us,_ Loki. You and I. We are nothing apart…” Thor’s voice was pleading and earnest and Loki couldn’t stand it. 

It burrowed under Loki’s skin and crawled, the declarations of love and forever were too much. They threw Loki off-kilter and made him dream, made him hope for something that could never be and it wasn’t _fair._

“Will you cease your endless prattling, Thor?” Loki snapped. “I… I cannot bear it. It cannot be.” 

“Endless prattling?!” Thor sounded furious and it was all Loki could do to suppress his shudder. “That’s what you think this is?” 

“I think promises made in bed are worth less than nothing,” Loki returned, cruelly. 

“Gods, Loki, you infuriate me,” Thor gritted out. 

Loki could feel the tension coiled in Thor and he an almost unbearable sadness that he couldn’t just let this be. He barely knew what drove him, just an unnamed desire not to give in, not to submit. 

“I am asking you to…” Thor began.

“You are asking me to declare, in front of your people, that you’ve had me! That I’m yours!” Loki cried, hopelessly aggravated that Thor couldn’t understand. 

“What is wrong with being mine?” Thor burst out. 

“Nothing,” Loki laughed bitterly. “Nothing at all, except that you cannot be mine in return.” 

“Loki…” Thor began to protest. 

“Do not lie to me, Thor,” Loki spat. “You are not asking me to become your… What? Your husband?” 

Loki scoffed and sat up, pushing himself away from Thor. The absence of the silken feel of Thor’s flesh against his own was a wound, but better he feel it now than later. It had been a mistake to give in, to forget who he was and more importantly, who Thor was. This could only ever be in the shadows, under the shelter of their canvas in the midst of endless woods, miles away from prying eyes. It could only ever be sordid, something whispered and gossiped about. Loki wouldn’t trade the contempt of Jotunheim for the contempt of Asgard. 

“We… We do not have to discuss this now,” Thor frowned, eyes skittering away from Loki. 

“Do we not?” Loki asked. “When, then? You’re the one who wanted to _speak._ Would you prefer to continue this after you’ve fucked me a few more times?” 

“No, that’s not what I… Stop attacking me,” Thor said more firmly. 

“I will stop attacking you if you stop spouting nonsense.” 

“Loki, I love you…” Thor protested. 

“I do not doubt it,” Loki interrupted softly. 

“Then, what…” Thor asked, confused. 

“I do not doubt you’ve loved every conquest you ever had, just as I do not doubt you’ve forgotten every promise you ever made them,” Loki continued. 

“You are not a conquest!” Thor shouted. 

“What, then? For once, Thor, I am not trying to hurt you. There is no future for us,” Loki said shortly. 

“That’s not true,” Thor was close to pleading. 

“It is, and you know it,” Loki snapped. “You told me you dreamed about this, was that true?” 

“From the moment I saw you,” Thor declared. “You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” 

_Thing,_ Loki thought, but he knew Thor didn’t mean anything by it. Thor never thought him a monster, or a thing, but Thor wasn’t the only creature in the world. While they’d been tangled in each other Loki could pretend, could lie to himself that he could have this, this thing he’d been denied all his life. But without the maddening rush of lust coursing through him, all Loki could see was the cracks between them. 

“And did you dream of what would come after?” Loki pushed. 

“I did not dream only of bedding you, if that is what you’re asking,” Thor spoke, voice low. 

“And yet you seem quite bereft of ideas of what will come now…” Loki pointed out quickly. 

“We could be many things,” Thor insisted. “Loki, for the love of… We haven’t risen from the bed where we lay together and you’re already writing our demise.” 

Loki opened his mouth to continue to argue but quietened when Thor sat up and gathered him in his arms. He slid his hand gently over Loki’s mouth and forced him to meet the god’s eyes. Loki squirmed a little, the anger he’d been clinging to as a defence melting away in the circle of Thor’s arms. 

“Loki, listen to me,” Thor’s voice was gentle but firm. “I do not know what we will be. I am no oracle and, frankly, I have no idea what you will do from one moment to the next.” 

Loki couldn’t help his mouth curling up in a smile under Thor’s hand at that. 

“I only know I love you with everything I have, and I will do anything to keep you by my side,” Thor’s eyes were fierce and Loki almost believed. 

But Loki knew things Thor didn’t. Loki knew Thor was wrong, dead wrong, but there was no point in arguing. They could lie to themselves together. It would never last and when it ended Loki wasn’t sure he would survive, but he desperately wanted to seize the little time they had and never let it go. 

Loki moved his lips, signalling Thor to remove his hand. The god pulled his hand away but stayed close, nosing gently at Loki’s jaw. 

“You are hopelessly spoilt, Odinson,” Loki whispered. 

He felt Thor’s grin against his neck, clinging pathetically when Thor tightened his grip. Thor ran his fingers lightly across Loki’s back, pressing kisses and bites to his throat. 

“Aye, that I am,” Thor’s lips tickled against Loki’s skin, sending him to shivering. 

It was hopeless to have tried to resist, but Loki couldn’t help it. It was an instinctive reaction, something ingrained deep inside him. He doubted there would ever be only contentedness between them and in part he fought to show Thor that, show him he should look elsewhere for happiness. Loki would never be easy or sweet or kind, but Thor was oblivious. 

“Let’s never fight again,” Thor mumbled, voice muffled against Loki. 

Loki laughed outright at that, pushing insistently at Thor to let him go. When he was free, he stood, resolved. He couldn’t let himself be drawn back in to Thor’s embrace; he feared if he continued to succumb he’d never leave. And he had things to do. Loki shuffled around, clothing himself while Thor lay frowning on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Thor asked. 

“Did you forget I came out here for a reason?” Loki asked, suppressing a smile, embarrassed to admit how much the idea of distracting Thor pleased him. 

“The war rages on, I doubt more reconnaissance is going to change much,” Thor said dismissively. 

Loki rolled his eyes. 

“Did you really think I would venture into the woods for nothing more than a glimpse at their defences? This mission is more than you realise, Thor,” Loki said slyly. 

“Loki, what are you going to do?” Thor asked worriedly, shifting on the ground. 

“I am going to win this war,” Loki’s grin was feral and bright. 

He bent down to press a desperate kiss against Thor’s lips. There was teeth and tongue and Loki’s moan was lost against Thor’s mouth. 

“If you tell a soul of us, I will gut you myself,” he hissed in Thor’s ear. 

The second Thor began to cling to him Loki shoved at the god, breaking them apart and stepping back. Thor’s expression was stricken when Loki shifted form and launched himself skyward into the night. His cry was caught on the wind and trailed in Loki’s wake, whispering in his ear as he flew over the tree tops, leaving Thor and what had passed between them behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry for the wait and this time doubly sorry for the shortness of the chapter. It just made sense to stop there. Thanks to everyone still reading!


	10. Best Laid Plans

This was easy. This was simple. This was _familiar._

Loki had felt pained as he spoke to Thor, the unspoken truth that only ruin awaited them weighing too heavily on him. Soaring above the ground though, pumping his wings in a mad dash to go as far as possible as fast as he could, felt wonderful. The rush of air sloughed the worry and the anxiety from his bones. He felt lighter, freer out of the circle of Thor’s arms. 

It felt too good, with Thor. The warmth was something he craved with every fibre of himself, but it wasn’t for him. He couldn’t be of the warmth, of the light. He belonged to the cold and the ice and the dark. He would cling to what Thor would give him while he could, he could no longer deny that. But he knew, in his bones and in his blood, that it would never last. All that was left was to carve whatever he could from between them while he watched them flame and burn before dying down to embers. 

This, though, Loki could do. He could win this war, he could throw the victory in the faces of those who doubted him. He could stand before the collected hordes of Asgard and Jotunheim and his worth would not be dictated by the sweet nothings Thor whispered in his ear. In this, he could he his own man, and he was revelling in the chance. 

Loki soared over the Vanir encampment. The plan was fresh in his mind. It had only occurred to him little more than a fortnight ago as he listened to Thor and Thrym snarl at each other. He had been standing there feeling trapped between the bodies of his past and future lovers when his thoughts were scattered by a revelation. Thor had been right, when he’d scolded Loki on his sick bed. The war did not need another warrior. It needed a trickster. 

It was dangerous and for a time he’d shied away from setting it in motion, scared of what might become of him if he failed. But sitting idly by while warriors fought and bled and died around him was rotting him from the inside out. He’d needed to act, and he had intended to act alone. Strike off into the night on a solo mission and come back clothed in glory. Thor’s petulant insistence on accompanying him had put paid to that, but Loki could still have his glory. He could still return to the Aesir with a triumphant grin and the means to end the war. 

Loki set down close to the edges of the Vanir’s sprawling camp. He shifted back, shivering as he felt himself lengthen and grow, keeping the sharpened vision as he surveyed their patrols from his new vantage point. His heart was thumping in his chest. It was risky. Hiding himself from view was exhausting, in the past he’d only managed to do so for a little over an hour. He might need longer than that, and it would be dangerous to be stranded with no energy left in the enemy’s midst. But there was nothing else. He had to do this, had to prove he could do this. He needed to show them, and if he failed he could at least say for a few all too brief hours he had been something close to content in Thor’s arms. 

_There._ Loki spied his target. A shiver ran down his spine, his legs, his arms, his fingertips, the length of each hair on his body. This was his chance. He was ready. 

* * *

Silence surrounded Loki as he changed, form shifting before the eyes of the soldiers around him. The only sounds were the shifting of their feet and the dull clanking of their weaponry. He shoved his prize roughly ahead of him, rolling his eyes in impatience as the god stumbled and fell. He was itching with impatience, the effort of holding himself back and not simply running ahead. 

The crowd parted before him and his hostage, clearing a path to the command tent. The sentries outside barely contained their shock, eyes bulging as they took in Loki and his blood-spattered prisoner. There could be no mistaking who walked before him; Njörðr of the Vanir. Loki sneered at them and quickened his pace, hissing at the weakened god when he stumbled. He swept past the sentries, ignoring their aborted protests in favour of casting his eyes desperately around the interior of the tent. 

His prisoner and everything he meant disappeared when Loki’s eyes found what they sought. _Thor._ Bright and beautiful and by some miracle and in some small way _his._ Loki couldn’t smile, couldn’t show any weakness or softness in the face of the Aesir but he hoped Thor could feel his heart race and blood rush. 

Thor’s mouth gaped open as he took in Loki and his companion. The collected commanders must have been in a meeting of some sort, they sat ranged around the table upon which their map of the battlefields sat. The silence around them was absolute as what Loki had brought and what that meant sank in. As it dragged on Loki resisted the urge to fidget. Why did they not speak? Why did they not congratulate him? Their faces bore expressions far from joy or pride or even astonishment. 

Loki started a little as Thor abruptly stood, shoving his chair back and striding across the ground. 

“Loki,” Thor said, grim faced, once they stood face to face. “Come.” 

Loki nodded, casting a brief glance at Njörðr. Thor caught his look and turned to one of his commanders. 

“Guard him closely,” Thor barked. 

The soldier nodded tightly, every eye in the room still glued to the Vanir in their midst. Satisfied, Loki followed Thor quietly as they made their way swiftly to Thor’s own tent. 

Once they were alone Loki let a grin split his face. His blood was singing and there was no need to hide himself here. He clutched the back of Thor’s head roughly in his hand and pulled the god tight to him, lips and teeth clashing. The only breath he could draw was Thor’s and he thought what a hopeless fool he’d been to allow himself this even once; now it was all he craved. 

“Loki,” Thor whispered, lips dancing along his hairline and arms like iron around Loki’s trembling frame. “I feared for you.” 

“There was no need,” Loki breathed back, burying his face into Thor’s throat and breathing deeply. 

“You told me nothing.” Thor pointed out. 

“There was no need,” Loki repeated impatiently, worrying his teeth gently into Thor’s neck, licking at the pulsing blood he found throbbing under the surface. “I needed no help.” 

He pressed closer, clinging tight to Thor’s implacable form. He wondered what they could do before someone interrupted them. He wondered if Thor would let Loki take him. He wondered if he was really going to see Asgard as a conquering hero. He smiled sharply and drew back a little to press another, less violent kiss on Thor’s lips. Thor was sweet and warm, but after a few moments Loki drew back. The god dropped his arms, drawing a deep shuddering breath and staring intently at Loki. 

Loki drew back a little, unsure. 

“Are you not pleased?” he asked, disbelieving in the face of Thor’s silence. 

“Loki,” Thor began, looking uncomfortable. “You know no one will thank you for this.” 

“Will they not?” Loki asked, confused. He had ended the war, had he not? 

“No. They will not,” Thor replied shortly. 

“Then they are fools,” Loki said simply, ignoring the clenching in his chest at Thor’s demeanour. 

Thor’s answering look was uncomfortable. 

“Perhaps so,” he allowed reluctantly, but his eyes skittered away and Loki knew. 

“And what of you?” Loki asked quietly. “Will you thank me for it?” 

Silence greeted him, like a knife to the gut. Thor said nothing, only met Loki’s stare for the briefest of seconds before averting his eyes again. 

“You told me your army needed no more soldiers, you told me you needed me to be a seiðrmaðr,” Loki pointed out, breaking the silence as he reminded Thor of what he had said to Loki as he lay prone on his sickbed. 

“Yes, but Loki… There is no honour in this,” Thor said quietly. 

“Is your ego truly so fragile?” Loki scoffed. “There is no honour in war.” 

“That is not true, and your attitude is not helping,” Thor admonished. “You’re gloating.” 

“As you would be if you had just _won the war!”_ Loki roared, furious. 

“Loki,” Thor snapped, matching Loki’s anger. “You are a prince, you grew up in your father’s court, do not tell me you do not understand how this works. It is a shameful way to win a war.” 

“I know nothing of how this works! These men, these generals are the same who cheered me and toasted me when I was slaughtering the enemy’s ranks, but you tell me they will gnash their teeth now their enemy kneels in chains before them? You ask me to be what I am then turn on me when I show you?” Loki exclaimed. 

“Why could you not have just told me?” Thor exploded. “I could have helped, I could have talked to them, but you’ve made a fool of them and a fool of me!” 

“Is that was this is truly about? Your pride?” Loki asked in astonishment. 

“It is about your utter lack of regard for anyone except yourself,” Thor snapped cruelly. 

“You think I did this for me?” 

“Have you ever done anything else?” Thor growled. 

“You… You… You _asked me to!_ You asked me to do what others could not, and now I have, and you censure me for it!” Loki insisted. 

“Censure you?! Were it anyone else your head would already be rolling on the ground,” Thor roared. 

Loki flinched back, disbelieving. This was the man he had left in the woods, who had whispered ‘Let’s never fight again’ into his skin? This was the man he had taken inside himself, given himself to? Thor stood before him, self-righteous in his rage that Loki would dare snatch a victory from him, as though they fought for no more than toys in a child’s playroom. 

Thor had convinced Loki he was wrong, convinced him there could be something for them, but Loki should never have believed. In his desperation to be anything other than what he was Loki had repressed every memory that had screamed at him not to give in. He should have clung to every slight and hurt and barb that marred his mind. He should never have given in to Thor and his impossible dreams. 

White hot anger burned through him. He had allowed himself to become Thor’s fool. 

“Tell me why you’re truly angry, _Thor?_ Did you hope we’d have a little while longer for me to be your camp whore, to bed a monster where your father couldn’t see? Did you hope you’d get to make me beg before you abandoned me and returned to your miserable rock?” Loki was beyond reason, something red and hot tearing its way through his gut and into his chest. His heart was shredded.

“You are raving,” Thor said through gritted teeth. “This has nothing to do with what passed between us…” 

“Lies!” Loki shrieked. “This has everything to do with what passed between us! You fed me lies and now you cast me aside!” 

“What are you talking about? I cannot follow you,” Thor shouted. “Your mind twists and turns and I _cannot follow you.”_

“You do not want to,” Loki shuddered as he spoke. “You have no wish to follow my mind, to see where it leads. You want me only when I am simple and needy.” 

“That is not fair,” Thor defended himself, but Loki held up a hand. 

“There is nothing more to say,” Loki let ice creep across his skin, cooling the air around him and driving Thor back a step. 

“What? Of course there is more to say, Loki this isn’t the end but you have to…” Thor frowned, clearly confused. 

“I have to do nothing,” Loki hissed, breath misting in the air as his temperature continued to drop, frosting the reeds beneath his feet. “You no longer command me, Odinson.” 

“Your father has not released you from my service,” Thor gritted out. 

“To Hel with my father,” Loki scorned. “And to Hel with you.” 

“Loki, you make too much of this. It…” Thor threw a glance to the opening of the tent and leaned in closer to hiss in Loki’s face. “It has no bearing on you and I, on us. It is war…” 

“There has never been anything between us but war,” Loki interrupted. “I was a fool to reach for anything more.” 

“Loki, please,” Thor pleaded, looking skittish and unsure. 

“I’m leaving,” Loki announced, making to leave when he felt Thor’s fist wrapped tight around his bicep. 

“What are you doing?” Thor shook him slightly, leaning in close. 

“I. Am. Leaving,” Loki repeated from between his gritted teeth. 

“Where, though? Are you going to speak with the…” 

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Loki interrupted, trying to tug away from Thor’s iron grip. “You can go and tell them how the little monster didn’t know what he was doing, how he’s sorry, how he just wanted to help, to beg for morsels of approval like a dog.” 

“You don’t believe I would ever…” Thor begins again, but Loki continues as if he never spoke. 

“You can pretend to be above this, pretend to be honorable and proud, you can blame it all on the dog you should have put down before he turned vicious,” Loki drew himself close to Thor’s face. “You will not return him. You will use him to wring every last concession you can from the Vanir. You will be ruthless, but best of all you will have the perfect scapegoat. A pathetic jotun runt who just wanted to make you happy.” 

Thor’s eyes were bright by the time Loki finished, tearing his arm harshly away from the Asgardian’s loosened grip. His anger and confusion had bled away, replaced by something so melancholy Loki took a step towards the door before he knew he’d moved. 

“So this is what you think of me,” Thor said quietly. 

“This is what I _know_ of you, Odinson,” Loki returned, drawing himself up to his full height. “This is what you have shown me.” 

Thor stared at him for a few long moments. Loki wanted to cry, to throw himself on Thor and beg to be forgiven, to be loved, to be cherished. The dream of Asgard Thor had spun him unraveled and with it any hope Loki harbored for a happy ending. He took another step and turned his back on Thor. He felt the chill in the air outside as he heard Thor’s voice from behind him. 

“You have made me miserable,” Thor’s voice chased him out of the god’s tent, across the teeming camp and inside his own tent. 

Loki collapsed onto the pile of furs that served as his bed and let himself weep. 

* * *

The icy fury that had descended on Loki had lifted, the coiling energy it gave him gone. He merely felt tired and unspeakably, unbearably sad. He lingered in his tent, ostensibly to gather his belongings before departing. But he had nothing he wished to take, and all he was doing was delaying the inevitable. When he heard the sound of someone entering, he shivered and realised this was why he’d come back. He was grasping for something more final, or perhaps hoping for a miracle. He desperately wanted to stay but Thor had _shamed_ him and he couldn’t live with himself if he forgot that. 

Loki turned to stare at Thor, an ache in his chest as he gazed on his lover. The god looked crestfallen, his mouth set in a grimace and his eyes impossibly blue and endlessly sad. Loki waited for Thor to speak. 

“Loki, I am sorry,” Thor said eventually, dejected in every word. 

“I knew it could never last, but still,” Loki paused, looking at Thor with tired eyes. “I expected a little more time.” 

“It does not have to be over,” Thor said with a stubborn frown. 

Loki looked at him, truly looked at him, and had to force down a smile. If Thor were anyone else Loki might have found his naïveté charming. But Thor held Loki’s heart too tight for there to be any room for forgiveness or acceptance. Loki had no wish to leave behind a fond, bittersweet memory of the few stolen moments they had claimed. Loki wanted to leave Thor torn to ribbons in his wake. He wanted Thor to never recover. He wanted Thor to never touch another. He wanted Thor _broken._

“Ah, you’d like one last round in bed?” Loki asked archly. 

“You know that is not what I mean,” Thor replied sternly. “Let me… Let me deal with this. Then you can return with me, people will forget.” 

“Forget?! _Forget?!_ I do not want them to forget! I want them to remember it was I who saved them from this scourge, I who ended the war, I who…” 

“That is not what they will say and you know it,” Thor interrupted. 

“What else would they say?” Loki asked, knowing the answer but wondering if Thor would admit it out loud. 

Thor didn’t take the bait, he just kept on staring at Loki, unhappiness written in every line of his face. Loki spoke for him. 

“They will say I used my sorcerous tricks to snatch their victory from them. They will call me a trickster and a liar and you will not stop them,” Loki sneered. 

Thor’s face was stricken, but Loki could not see why. He did no more than speak the truth.

“And they will call me a whore,” Loki said simply. 

Thor looked crestfallen, but he did not disagree. 

It hurt, _gods,_ how it hurt and the answering agony on Thor’s face was little comfort. Loki had expected to take some pleasure from it, to revel that for once Loki wasn’t the only one injured. But there was no joy to be had, nothing between them except something so fragile it had never had a chance to grow. Thor had crushed it, or Loki had smashed it, or they had both neglected it, but the result was the same. 

Loki turned away, grasping the meager possessions he had collected together in his hand. He began reciting the words in his mind. He knew where he was going; somewhere his father and Thor and every single other person who might think to look for him couldn’t follow. 

“Loki, do not let this be the end,” Thor begged. 

Loki took a deep breath. He could feel his body preparing for the journey, shifting and changing. He would soon be gone. He would never see Thor again, by chance or by design. He wanted to sling a parting barb at the Asgardian, to dig the knife in a little deeper. But he was leaving, he was turning his back on his father and his people and on Thor, the only person he had ever loved. So he allowed himself one final indulgence. 

Thor’s mouth was wet and warm, his lips soft. It was a goodbye but it felt like coming home, Thor welcoming him in, gently coaxing Loki’s lips open with his tongue. Loki felt wetness on his cheeks and he wasn’t sure if the tears were his own or Thor’s. 

“I love you, you bastard,” Loki sobbed against Thor’s neck before pushing himself away and whispering the final word to take him away. 

Thor started forward, desperately grasping but his fingers touched nothing but air. Thor’s cry followed Loki into the void, as inescapable as his own heartbeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, writing this chapter has been haaard! Which is why it's taken me so long. 
> 
> There's only one chapter left to go, thanks to everyone still reading. 
> 
> As per usual, my 'research' is virtually non-existent and entirely Wikipedia based.


	11. Too High a Price

The inn was of ill-repute and it stank, but it was far enough away from the palace that none who Loki might know would venture there. He feared if he wandered too close he would be unable to control himself. If he caught a glimpse of golden hair he’d be as lovesick and foolish as he ever was. No, this hovel was much safer. 

“What’ll it be?” the wizened innkeeper asked, eyeing Loki’s borrowed form disinterestedly. 

“Mead,” Loki croaked, the aged illusion he has wrapped around him drying his words. 

After paying for the drink Loki shuffled towards the largest and loudest group in the room. Before his exile he would never have deigned enter a place like this. He would’ve got his information another way, using his seiðr to ferret out what he needed to know, skimming off the top of men’s minds. Now, though, things have changed. He sought out this rough sort of company, savouring the shouts and bellows of their conversation. Loki learned more this way. 

Or so he lied to himself. In truth even these boorish oafs were some reminder of what he’d left behind, of what he couldn’t allow himself to miss. He wanted the type of truth murmured in smoky halls, truth piecemeal and obscured, a pale reflection. Loki knew too well how sharp its edges could be, he had no wish to be cut again. 

He could stand this, here at the periphery, gleaning only snatches of conversation filtered down through Asgard’s ranks. 

“Saw the prince today,” one of their number boasted, puffing up his chest and lifting his chin in pride. 

Loki huffed out a breath he couldn’t admit he had been holding. _The prince._ What a treat. Loki’s previous ventures had yielded little more than idle gossip. He stared unseeing at the mead in his hand, ears picking up the conversation next to him with ease. 

“Gave you a medal, did he?” another guffawed in scorn, shoving at the first. 

A short scuffle ensued, shouts and insults hurled across the table until both sides lost interest and the first speaker continued. 

“Aye, saw him I did,” he nodded, taking a deep draft from his cup and eyeing the others, a dare to ask for more. 

“And?” one asked sourly. “Is he still moping about?”

Some grumbling erupted at that, a few raised voices, but it quieted quickly as the first began speaking again. 

“Nay, he’s had it with that,” he grinned, desperate to spill the secret he’d clearly been hoarding since he first spoke. 

“Go on then, out with it,” another prompted, not enjoying the teasing game. 

“He’s back to his old tricks,” the man was practically vibrating in his seat with anticipation. 

“About time, too,” one noted, punctuating his observation with a loud belch. “Who’s he rolling around with, then?”

“How long do you have?” the man leered, prompting laughter from the rest of the group. “Boy’s been carrying on with any wench that’ll open her legs for ‘im.” 

The cup in Loki’s hand shattered, its now icy shards falling to the table with a clatter, but fortunately not loud enough to be heard over the din that greeted the man’s words. They were shouting, begging for details, names of whom Thor had bedded, how long he’d been out of his uncharacteristic moping. Loki closed his eyes and shut his ears to their cries. 

He’d been waiting for this, he reminded himself. Waiting for the final blow, for something to cut the cord he still felt looped around his neck, the connection he loathed but couldn’t bear to break. This was it. While Thor hid in his rooms for months Loki could excuse his own weakness. But with the news of Thor’s emergence, Loki knew what he had to do. 

Hours later, when the last of the patrons had stumbled out the door with a slurred thank you to the innkeeper, Loki waited outside in the shadows. The Asgardian who had spoken was the last to leave, drunk as a wretch as he weaved his way towards a small alley to relieve himself before wandering home. 

He barely even cried out when Loki first wrapped his hand around the drunk’s throat, shoving him hard against the crumbling wall of the alley. Loki glared into his bleary eyes that were trying desperately to focus, before drawing his knife and shoving it roughly against the soft flesh of the man’s gut. 

“Is it true?” Loki hissed, pressing down and smelling the heady reek of blood. 

“Is what true?” the man whimpered, eyes wide and trembling. 

“The prince, the prince you fool!” Loki spat, bearing down and watching the red trickle down the blade and along his arm. 

“The prince?” the man repeated foolishly, shaking his head for a moment. 

“Yes, the prince! What you spoke of the prince! Did you speak true!” Loki was as if possessed, desperate for an answer. 

“Y… Yes,” the man stuttered eventually, wincing even as he spoke. 

“He has others now,” Loki murmured. 

“He…” the man frowned, eyes darting behind Loki sluggishly as though he could escape. Loki tightened his grip and the man’s eyes darted back to meet Loki’s. 

“Others, yes…” he cried, and before his voice had faded Loki shoved _in,_ tearing through him. 

He let the man drop carelessly to the ground, crumpled as the blood flowed from his corpse and stained the cobblestones red. 

It was time for Loki’s exile to end. He had wallowed long enough, hidden in the shadows too long. He had clung to every snippet of conversation that spoke of Thor’s moods, of his deep and dark depression that cast a pall over Asgard, had never admitted to himself that one day it would end. The thrill Loki felt hearing of Thor’s isolation, his celibacy, could not last forever. 

The words, the stories, he had heard of Thor’s heartbreak ceased to exist the second Loki heard the golden prince had once again started rutting into anything that passed his way. Thor had never mourned him. Thor had never cared. Thor was a snivelling liar, and Loki was done with him. 

He strode from the alleyway, letting his disguise sluice from his shoulders as he walked, leaving the corpse behind him. He felt his blood cool and his house lines slither across his skin. The few people who walked the streets recoiled from him. He smiled in the face of their fear, drawing it about him like a mantle. He would drape himself in their terror and bring Asgard to its knees. 

* * *

“Who’s there?” Laufey’s voice was utterly devoid of fear; Loki had to suppress a stab of admiration at his father’s stoicism. 

“Your son,” Loki murmured back, sure Laufey wouldn’t remain so calm when he realised who had slipped into his room. 

Through the gloom Loki saw his father’s lip curl before he spat noisily on the floor. 

“Son?” Laufey sneered, throwing his head back to laugh theatrically before hauling himself out of bed and standing to his full height. “You’re no son of mine.” 

“Not for long, anyway,” Loki snarled back. 

Laufey raised his eyebrows as he glared carefully around his chamber. 

“Is that a threat, whelp?” Laufey laughed again. “Not brave enough to show your face, though.” 

Loki hesitated. He knew Laufey was baiting him, but he wasn’t afraid and he wouldn’t have Laufey going to his grave thinking he was. He dropped the veil that concealed him and for the first time in years looked into his father’s eyes. The king looked old, his once proud form less formidable, almost creaking where he stood. But he still towered over Loki and every slight that marred their past ran through Loki’s mind. The indifference Laufey held towards his son had come late in Loki’s life; his memories of childhood were scattered with cruelties too numerous to name. The lack of concern seemed long gone now, replaced by a seething anger Loki was surprised to see. 

“I always knew you were a worthless thing,” Laufey said, apropos of nothing. 

Loki stayed silent. He had little desire for an exchange of barbs with his father; ones thrown years ago still had their hooks in him. 

“I gave you a chance no other would have gifted a snivelling runt like you,” Laufey snarled, continuing despite Loki’s silence. “A chance to prove yourself. But instead you chose to spend the campaign on your knees for that Asgardian son of a whore, and when he cast you aside you ran like a spurned wench. Bah!” 

The giant spat again, spittle trailing from his lip and over his chin. 

“You wound me,” Loki declared softly, smiling slightly when Laufey looked triumphant. “I’m wounded you think it was only Thor I was servicing. Surely you raised me better than that. I was fucking the whole army, all in the name of great Jotunheim.” 

Laufey snarled, throwing his arms forward in an aborted attempt to seize Loki by the throat. He was slow and lumbering, and by the way his feet had stayed planted to the ground he was clearly immobile. A sharp grin split Loki’s face. 

“Temper, temper,” Loki murmured, inching closer to just outside Laufey’s reach. 

“You shamed me!” Laufey roared, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled. 

“I won that war,” Loki hissed, unable to stop himself. “You are a _liar._ You didn’t send me to prove myself. You sent me to die and when I didn’t you loathed me for it.” 

Laufey narrowed his eyes. 

“I loathed you for much more than that, _boy,”_ he snarled. “I loathed you from the second you drew breath.” 

“Do you seek to hurt me? Do you truly think these little barbs sting?” Loki scoffed, feigning indifference. “Truthfully I expected more.” 

“You are nothing,” Laufey sneered. “You turned your back on your people to beg for the affections of that bastard prince and when he cast you aside you were left with nothing. You are a shade and a ghost and _you are nothing.”_

Loki regarded his father grimly. Laufey had rarely been so animated before in Loki’s presence; in the past he’d mostly been reserved and colder than the icy wastelands of his kingdom but never passionate in his cruelty. This was different. The Jotun king wanted to hurt him. 

“How you prattle on,” Loki breathed. “I believe I’ve heard about all I care to from the aged king of Jotunheim. It’s time for a change.” 

“You haven’t the stones to kill me, child,” Laufey scoffed, straightening his back to tower over Loki. 

“I beg to differ,” Loki spoke quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the sharp ring of metal as he pulled his blade from the air around him. 

He let it hang loosely at his side, turning it slightly so it caught the scant, weak light in the room and Laufey could see its edge. 

“We use ice as blades,” was all the king said, voice unwavering but quiet. 

“There is no we,” Loki replied. 

“You’re a son of Jotunheim, like it or not.” 

“I thought I was nothing?” Loki threw back. 

Laufey was silent. 

“I am nothing to you, and you are nothing to me,” Loki continued once it was clear the king wouldn’t reply. 

“You won’t get away with this,” Laufey insisted eventually. 

“I don’t want to ‘get away with it,’” Loki said. “I want every creature that walks or crawls to know it was I who wielded the blade and slew the king. I’ll carve my name in your chest and set you on the battlements to rot.” 

“You wish to die?” 

“I wish to claim what’s rightfully mine. And you delude yourself if you think any of your lackeys will care for longer than the time it takes me to bring a blade to their throats.” 

“Rightfully yours?” Laufey echoed in confusion. 

“The throne,” Loki spoke in clipped tones. 

“You jest,” Laufey looked incredulous and Loki had to carefully stop himself from bristling. 

“I do not,” Loki said coldly. 

“You think they will put you on the throne, your hands still stained in my blood?” 

“I think they will have little choice but to put me on the throne. I have grown in my absence. They haven’t the power to refuse me.” 

“You are mad,” Laufey grunted. 

“Perhaps,” Loki allowed. “It matters not either way. You won’t be around to judge.” 

“An honourable man would face me in battle,” Laufey thrust his chin up belligerently, still mistakenly believing he was intimidating. 

“A good thing I am not an honourable man then,” Loki grinned, drawing his blade up in front of his face. “From your own tongue I am a shade, a ghost, nothing. And I owe you nothing.” 

The blade made no sound as it slid into the Jotun king’s flesh. It felt strangely anticlimactic, that this simple act was truly what he had been plotting so carefully. It was the end, but Loki felt nothing. 

“Vale, father,” Loki sneered before twisting the blade and watching Laufey’s eyes roll back in his head. 

The giant slumped to the floor, Loki’s blade slithering from his corpse as Loki’s blood sung with the thrill of success. His father was dead. Loki had wielded the blade. He was free. 

* * *

“He murdered our king! You can’t trust him!” Gangr shrieked, shaking finger pointing unsteadily to where Loki lounged unconcernedly on the towering throne. 

“I dare say they’re aware of that already,” Loki drawled, boredom well and truly set in. 

He’d always known Jotun loyalties lay with the strong, and a dead king was most definitely weak. It had been a simple matter of summoning guards to witness him standing above his father’s corpse with blood dripping from his sword to be taken to the throne room and for the various giants of his father’s court to assemble. Nary a tear had been shed and after Loki had impressed upon them the dangers of refusing him most had bent the knee, but Gangr continued to resist. 

“He will bring us to ruin!” Gangr cried, spittle flying from his lips as he ranted. 

Loki narrowed his eyes at his long-time tormenter and made the decision that an example needed to be made. He knew every creature on Jotunheim cursed his name, knew their loyalty would last as long as it took him to turn his back. But loyalty could be bought with fear just as well as respect, and Loki could make them quake. 

“Gangr!” Loki’s voice echoed around the cavernous chamber and brought the snarling giant up short. 

“You can stop that caterwauling now,” he continued. “You have made your opinions clear to all.” 

“I will never stop,” Gangr spat back, rage in his eyes. “I will never stop shouting of your treachery, not until one of these snivelling cowards brings me your head.” 

“Never, I see,” Loki nodded. “Then you will never bow to me?” 

“Never!” Gangr screamed. 

“Very well,” Loki smiled. 

All was silent in the throne room for long moments, the assembled masses shifting from foot to foot, eyeing each other warily. It began slowly, with Gangr twitching and murmuring, until he began convulsing so violently he ripped himself from the restraining hands of the guards Loki had commanded to hold him. He screeched, his cries echoing from the icy walls and out into the wasteland beyond. Steam rose from the shuddering giant’s body as his blood boiled within his veins. Loki smiled at his agony and glared out across his new subjects, raising his voice over the din of Gangr expiring. 

“Witness! The price of dissent,” Loki yelled, voice carrying across the palace. 

The silence that followed was deafening, the untrusting faces that looked up at him on his throne now coloured with a begrudging respect. There was only one way to win respect in Jotunheim. Rousing speeches and inspiring leadership were nothing in the face of a leader willing to spill blood for power. Violence had long been the only currency on the frozen realm; Loki intended to use it. 

After glaring balefully out at the masses for what seemed like an eternity, Loki waved his hand imperiously to dismiss them. No doubt they had gossip to spread and whispers to exchange. He was confident his stunt with Gangr had left an impression. Now all he had to do was cling to the power he had seized. 

As the Jotuns departed, one towering giant remained, standing stoically to the side of the throne room, far from the still steaming corpse no one was looking at. Loki simply stared, waiting for the giant to speak first. 

“I’m pleased to see you again, Loki,” Loki smiled a little at Thrym’s voice. “I feared you dead after…” 

“Yes,” Loki interrupted quickly, loath to hear Thrym continue that sentence. “I went… Away.” 

‘Away’ seemed like an acceptable euphemism for ‘mad,’ though Loki was sure Thrym wasn’t fooled for a second. The looming giant regarded him closely for a moment before nodding in silent acceptance of Loki’s change of subject. 

“I feel I should have suspected you had a hand in the howls of terror that echoed through Jotunheim when news of your deed spread,” Thrym observed, an undercurrent of fondness seeping into his tone. “You always had a flair for the dramatic.” 

Loki laughed at that, wondering even as he did so when was the last time he’d uttered the sound. 

“You can’t deny the old fool had it coming,” Loki smirked. 

“No, I can’t,” Thrym admitted with a matching small smile that was quickly replaced by something more serious. “Your revenge is long overdue.” 

“My revenge has only just begun, old friend,” Loki retorted, watching Thrym closely for a hint as to the giant’s thoughts. 

“Ah,” was all he said, whether in rebuke or acceptance Loki couldn’t tell. 

They stood watching the slow clean up of what was left of Gangr for long minutes, the silence between them comfortable. 

“You will serve as my aide,” Loki said eventually. 

“If you wish,” Thrym replied, then seemed to hesitate for a moment. 

“Speak your mind, Thrym,” Loki encouraged. “Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear.” 

“You know they will never truly want you as their king,” Thrym’s voice was gentle but his tone didn’t change the sourness of his words. 

“I know,” Loki agreed. 

“They will kill you the second you outlive your use to them,” the general continued. 

“I might remind you, _Thrym,_ that I am not an imbecile, nor have I ever suffered from delusions. I know they hate me,” he spoke quietly, looking out over the impassive giants who were, for now, his allies and subjects. “I also know it doesn’t matter.” 

“How can it not matter? Do you have a death wish?” Thrym enquired, concern turning his words to irritation. 

“Not at all,” Loki smirked. “But by the time I’ve outlived my use and they’ve decided to depose me I’ll have already slit their treacherous throats.” 

Thrym’s silence was a rebuke, but the giant was dreaming if the thought his opprobrium would have any effect on Loki. Loki thrived on it, cherished it. 

“I cannot support that,” Thrym eventually spoke, disapproval clear in his tone. 

Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that. 

“When did I ever ask for your support? You forget, Thrym, _I know you._ And I know the soft, warm heart that lurks hidden within your breast. You love this rock and these insects that scurry upon it. You’d protect them from me, if you could.” 

“I can,” Thrym replied grimly. 

“Hmm,” Loki hummed noncommittally, unconcerned. “You probably could, at that. But you won’t. As you said, they’re the ones who wish me ill. You surely wouldn’t punish me for defending myself?” 

Loki cast his eyes slyly sidelong at Thrym, enjoying the giant’s discomfiture. 

“You can’t defend yourself from acts not yet committed,” Thrym pointed out. 

“So I should wait for them to bury their ice in my back before I strike back? No, Thrym, I am done with that,” Loki retorted, eyes sharp and jaw set. 

“Is that what this is all about?” Thrym asked softly after long moments of silence. 

“Leave,” Loki dismissed him, turning away to miss the look of sadness Thrym wore. 

He waited out the moments of indecision he was sure would follow. Thrym always had been soft, and Loki knew he would waver, unsure whether his words of advice or comfort would be welcome. Loki hoped his feigned indifference would convince him his words were most certainly _not_ welcome. 

He didn’t stir when he heard Thrym clap his fist to his breast and leave reluctantly. He sat still, on the throne he’d seized with bloody hands, lost in memories he couldn’t seem to escape. 

* * *

“Asgard has sent another missive, sire,” the young giant intoned. 

Loki grinned. The weeks since he had taken the throne had been occupied with frequent meetings with his generals to discuss a war with Asgard. Cowards that they were, they shied away from the thought, arguing against Loki as much as they dared. Loki was relentless, though, and they were slowly coming around to the idea. 

Their fears were well founded; a war with Asgard would be catastrophic for Jotunheim, but their arguments didn’t touch Loki. They failed to realise he cared not how many Jotuns would fall, only that they take just as many Aesir with them when they died. 

They were now insisting Loki declare his intention. War without warning was barbaric, apparently. Loki had so far resisted, but he was beginning to see the appeal of sending word ahead. Let Th… _Asgard_ contemplate its own demise for once. See how elated they were when the axe was flashing above their heads. 

“Read it,” Loki commanded with no small amount of relish. 

The messenger’s eyes darted around Loki’s advisors nervously before turning to the scroll he had, and he began to read. 

_To the King of Jotunheim,_

Hail from Odin, King of Asgard and guardian of the Nine Realms. 

Scattered muttering erupted at that and Loki hid his grin. Odin was about to do Loki’s job for him. 

_It has come to our attention the ruler Laufey has passed away. We send our most heartfelt condolences to the people of Jotunheim at this most sensitive time._

_However, we must demand that Asgard be informed immediately as to the identity of your new ruler and the circumstances of Laufey’s death. Through millennia of war and strife we had forged a peace with Jotunheim and an alliance with Laufey._

_We are sorrowful at his passing and hope one day to forge a similar peace with his rightful successor. We await your word._

There was absolute silence in the wake of the letter. Loki scanned the faces of the gathered giants, searching for any hint of dissension in the ranks. Politics in Jotunheim were primitive, at best, and his father’s advisors had never learned to hide their thoughts, allowing Loki to read them with ease. Each face reflected the growing feeling of outrage Loki himself was feeling as Odin’s letter sunk in. Time to twist the knife. 

“He thinks to order us?!” Loki roared. 

The giants grumbled loudly, some shouting curses at Odin and others demanding an immediate declaration of war. 

“He will kneel before us, or we will wrest the life from his body,” Loki screamed out. The din of his assembled advisors was deafening as they yelled their approval. 

Loki smiled and said silent thanks for Odin’s conceit. If he played this right, he would have little enough to do to spark war. He kept his grin small as he dismissed them, enjoying the snippets of conversation that echoed back to him on his throne. Talk of drinking the blood of the Aesir, of the righteousness of their cause, all boded well for Loki’s plans. 

As ever, eventually Loki was left alone except for Thrym, who approached him with the echo of a smile still on his face. 

“If I didn’t know better I would say you’re enjoying this, Loki,” Thrym observed. 

Loki laughed in earnest, turning his grin to Thrym. 

“I suppose I am,” Loki admitted. “Who knew warmongering could be so much fun?” 

“Indeed,” Thrym replied, the disapproval dripping from his tone. 

Loki laughed again, delighting in Thrym’s displeasure. 

“What will your next move be?” 

Loki tilted his chin back slightly to look up into the vast reaches of the ceiling that hung over the throne room. He grinned when inspiration hit him. 

“You will go to Asgard as my vassal,” Loki proclaimed. 

“I will not go to Asgard as a pawn in your game with the Odinson,” Thrym said bluntly. 

“This has nothing to do with the Odinson,” Loki bristled. 

“That is a lie,” Thrym spoke sharply. “And I would ask you do not utter it again. You hope my appearance will wound him.” 

“I hope nothing of the sort,” Loki snaps. “You know the Asgardian prince best.” 

“Not so well as you,” Thrym said quietly. “And you know his name, Loki.” 

“Do not presume to tell me what I know, Thrym. How quickly you forget I am your king,” Loki hissed. 

“I forget nothing, _your highness,_ you are the one who forgets,” Thrym replied. “You are king now, and there is more for you to worry about besides slights between old lovers that should be long forgotten.” 

Loki felt his blood curdle in his veins and he closed his eyes to stop himself lashing out with fire to kill his old friend. 

“You will not speak of this again,” he said eventually, voice tightly controlled. “You will go to Asgard. You will answer their missives. Or you will be relieved of command.” 

The undercurrent of threat felt strange on Loki’s tongue. Thrym was his ally, but mention of Thor made him cruel and harsh. He waited, trembling at the thought of a fight with the giant before Thrym’s shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“As you wish,” Thrym agreed, reluctance clouding his tone. “But I tell you, it is folly.” 

“Dismissed,” was all Loki replied, staring stonily ahead without sparing a glance for his departing general. 

* * *

Loki’s fingers twitched. He curled his hands into fists to stop their dance, nails biting deep into his cold flesh. The ice spread out before him. It asked for it, invited it. It wanted to show him, and he could no longer deny he wanted to see. 

As it had in Asgard, the ice showed him only a haze to begin with, an image soft around the edges that sharpened as Loki concentrated, and then there he was. _Thor._

Loki only rarely allowed himself this, calling forth Thor’s image, and only when he had been awake for days and weakened. Thrym had departed long days ago and Loki had yet to hear anything back. He had tried to suppress his urge to spy as long as he could, but as days turned into a week he could no longer sleep. 

Loki frowned at the image. There was something different about it. Thor was somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere… 

Loki’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet pounding the icy floors of the palace and he looked up sharply as he let the image fade from the ice. Moments later, a sentry posted to guard against Thrym’s return burst into the throne room and ran with speed up to Loki. 

“Thrym is returned, sire,” the sentry panted, out of breath and with an edge of barely contained excitement. 

“What? What is it?” Loki frowned, leaning forward on the throne that dwarfed him. 

“He… It… The… The _Odinson_ is with him,” the sentry grinned, then sobered himself, before shrinking as he saw Loki’s expression. 

“The… What?” Loki stuttered, stunned. 

The sentry looked warier by the second, shuffling slowly backwards as though he could avoid Loki’s rage if he chose to unleash it. Loki flicked his wrist in irritation, sending the giant scurrying away, tripping in his haste to leave the throne room. 

The Odinson. _Thor._ Thor was on Jotunheim, and Loki was in a state of utter panic. He wanted to flee, the blood in his veins singing with the need to leave, to not face Thor. His heart was thundering so hard he could barely hear the sentry asking if Loki wanted anything done. Summoning strength he flapped a hand and sent the young giant away. Whatever it was he needed, an audience was not part of it. 

Alone in the throne room Loki waited long minutes for Thrym and Thor to arrive. Panic threatened to overwhelm Loki each time he thought of seeing Thor again. He steeled himself, straightening his spine and assuming a blank expression. He would give nothing away. He needed only to send Thor scurrying back to his father. He could do this. 

When the two entered, Loki kept his eyes firmly on Thrym, ignoring the flash of red to his right. He glared at the Jotun, furious and betrayed that he had brought Thor without even a word. They drew close to the throne and bowed, Loki still refusing to set his eyes on Thor. 

“Loki,” Thrym began, face set in a grim countenance. “I present Thor of Asgard. He has come to discuss…” 

“I think I can figure that out for myself thank you, Thrym,” Loki snapped, issuing Thrym a slight nod to dismiss him. 

The giant looked as though he wanted to argue, but wisely decided to obey. He bowed once more, threw a sidelong glance at Thor before departing swiftly, footsteps harsh on the icy floor. Alone, Loki had little choice but to finally look at Thor. He quashed the thoughts that tried to intrude (he looks older, he seems so weary, were his eyes always so blue?) and regarded the Odinson with what he hoped was steel in his gaze. 

“It’s all true then,” despite his words Thor sounded as though he couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know why I ever doubted it. I always knew you would rule the world one day.” 

Loki ground his teeth to stop the stream of curses he wanted to spit out at that. 

“No one has seen you since… You look well… Where did you go? I scoured the realms for you… Loki, I…” 

Thor huffed when none of his words prompted so much as a change of expression from Loki. 

“Do you intend to speak to me at all?” Thor asked after the silence stretched on. 

“I did not expect you to come,” was all Loki replied. “I did not ask you to. And I have no wish to speak to you.”

“I do not think that’s true,” Thor protested gently. 

“I could take you as a hostage. Or simply have you killed,” Loki declared. 

“Aye. You could,” Thor agreed. 

“Why are you here?” Loki snapped, off balance. 

“There have been rumblings of war from out of Jotunheim for months. Rumours and half-truths, of a dead prince come to reclaim the throne and declare war on Asgard. And months ago there was a Jotun in Asgard who left only a corpse in his wake.” 

Loki rasied an eyebrow. 

“How monstrous.” 

“Is that all you have to say?” 

“What else should I say?” 

“I know it was you.” 

“How clever.” 

“You have not changed.” 

“I have changed in ways you cannot even imagine.” 

“Is that why you threaten war? You wish to show m… Us how you have changed?” 

“I threaten war because too long have the Nine Realms quaked in the face of Asgard’s arrogance. I would change that. Let the people of Asgard taste the sour sweat of fear in the backs of their throats.” 

“Why did you send Thrym to me?” Thor demanded, shifting subject quickly. 

“He is my aide, my general,” Loki replied dismissively. “Who better to send?” 

“He has no wish for this war, for one thing,” Thor pointed out. 

“Is that what he told you?” Loki asked. 

“No, of course not,” Thor replied in frustration. “He fed me exactly what you told him to; Jotunheim threatens war. But I’m not the fool you think I am. He has no wish to battle Asgard.” 

“Your arrogance is, as ever, astounding,” Loki said waspishly. “You presume much, to put words in Thrym’s mouth.” 

“I am sure there are Jotuns chomping at the bit to slaughter Asgardians, yet you sent Thrym whose distaste for the idea of war was obvious,” Thor gritted out. “You are not nearly as clever as you think you are, Loki.” 

“How dare you,” Loki snarled. 

“How dare _I?!_ Loki you are breaths away from annihilation. I had to beg father to allow me to come at all,” Thor pleaded. 

“You have shown me nothing but contempt by coming here. You have invaded a sovereign land,” Loki snapped, feeling perilously close to losing what little control he had over his composure. 

“You murdered one of my citizens. How could I leave that unanswered?” Thor protested. 

“Believe me, he had it coming,” Loki sneered. 

“If it were anyone else, Loki…” Thor began. 

“I do not expect special treatment, Odinson,” Loki interrupted. 

“Then you will be glad the special treatment ends here. I have come to discuss peace terms,” Thor declared, sounding resigned. 

“I would rather die than submit to you, Whoreson,” Loki hissed in retort. 

“And so you will, if you do not give this up now. You cannot win a war with us, Loki,” Thor said grimly. 

“I seem to remember winning the last one,” Loki pointed out sharply. 

“Is that what this is all about?” Thor asked incredulously. 

“Get out!” Loki screamed as he stood from his throne, wishing not for the first time he had the towering stature of his people. He wanted to loom over Thor, stare down at him, spit on him from above. 

“I came here to make peace,” Thor began angrily, but Loki ignored him. 

He stalked from the throne room, leaving behind Thor’s outraged yelling that demanded Loki get back there and speak to him. Loki could feel his tenuous hold on himself slipping from his grasp. When his control finally failed him he needed to be as far from Thor as possible, but he could hear that voice following through the empty halls of the palace he had never wanted and he didn’t feel as alone as he wished to be. 

* * *

Loki did not wake, as he had not slept. He had lain unmoving on his cold, hard bed and ruthlessly clamped down on memories that tried to surface, emotion that tried to choke him. His fingers twitched to summon an image in the ice, and by morning his palms were ribbons from where he had clenched his fists to stop himself. 

Thor would surely be gone by now. The thought should have been calming, but Loki just wanted to scream when he dwelt on it. Thor was gone, Loki had told him to leave, and he had threatened a war he did not truly want. Loki had no wish to take on Asgard. He had coveted it, and then hated it, but now he felt little for the golden realm. It was a place, much like any other only brighter, and it held nothing for him. 

He had wanted to tear it down brick by brick, flood its streets with the blood of its citizens, piss on the steaming ruins of something once so proud, but only ever as a means to an end. He wanted Asgard to burn so he could watch Thor weep. He wanted to tear what Thor loved to pieces and devour the remains. 

Thor in the flesh, though, had all but quashed those fantasies of revenge. Loki hardly had the energy to fight him. Thor was, as ever, unchanged. Would anything ever touch him? Would Loki ever be able to wound him? Loki hadn’t been prepared to see him, hadn’t had _time_ to prepare, and there was someone to blame for that. Someone tangible, someone who had little choice but to take Loki’s abuse. Unable to sleep and desperate for a fight, Loki sent for Thrym. 

* * *

“What _possessed_ you?!” Loki demanded when the general was finally before him. 

Thrym looked grim but unrepentant. Loki had summoned the giant to his own chambers to have some strips torn off him, but so far Thrym’s lack of reaction was robbing Loki of any satisfaction. 

“What would you have had me do to stop him?” Thrym questioned emotionlessly. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Thrym,” Loki shot back angrily. “He would never have come without your encouragement.” 

“He…” Thrym began angrily but cut himself with a huff before he had uttered a full word. 

“Please, Thrym, by all means continue,” Loki sneered. “Whatever you have to say, it cannot possibly make this worse for you.” 

Thrym stared at Loki with an unreadable expression before heaving a sigh and speaking quietly.

“You do not know him as well as you think you do,” Thrym stated, shaking his head furiously when Loki made to argue. “No! You told me to speak my mind, so you will listen until I’m done. Then kill me, if that’s what you really want.” 

Loki gritted his teeth, refusing Thrym a nod but the larger giant took his silence for the agreement it was. 

“You only see what your anger will allow you to see. He needed no encouragement to come. He has been trying to come every day since word of a Jotun in Asgard broke, before even news of Laufey’s death. He heard a whisper, a rumour, and he has bribed, threatened, and cajoled every magic user he could find to barter passage to Jotunheim.” 

Loki was stunned into silence. He tried to summon an argument but had no words. Thrym continued with a nod of his head. 

“You know as well as I no one would transport the prince when Odin had forbade him from using the Bifrost. But he did not give up. When I arrived in Asgard rumours flew through the halls of the screaming matches Odin and Thor were having. He has been fighting that old man so he could most likely meet his death in this wasteland hoping only to see you. Loki, you cannot lie to yourself any longer. I will no longer support you.” 

“You’re going to depose me?” Loki asked faintly, seizing upon the one part of Thrym’s speech he could parse. 

“I will not let you start a war we have no hope of winning for a grudge you have no right to bear,” Thrym stated bluntly. 

“No right?” Loki demanded incredulously, feeling anger seep back into his veins where before there was only longing. 

“Gods, Loki!” Thrym yelled with rage he had never before shown Loki. “Whatever he did, whatever slight he committed against you, it has long since passed! He would make amends to you in a breath’s span if he had any hope you would listen. If he is sorry, and if he loves you, what more could you possibly need?” 

“What more…” Loki spluttered. _“What more?!_ His _feelings_ change nothing, you lumbering fool! He… He…He…” 

Loki stuttered hysterically, tongue tripping over his words as he tried to explain what Thor had done to him, what Thor had taken from him. He could feel tears of rage prickling behind his eyes and he turned away from his one-time lover to hide them. 

“Your pride has always had a high cost, Loki,” Thrym’s voice seemed overloud in the quiet of Loki’s chambers but he spoke quietly. “I think this time it may be too high, even for you.” 

Loki didn’t reply, couldn’t. He could only stand and stare. He heard Thrym sigh and leave, but Loki didn’t stir. He could barely breathe. 

* * *

Loki knew, when he heard the insistent knocking that rapped on his door, where Thrym had gone. He wanted to ignore it, he wanted to open it, he wanted to rend his own flesh from his own bones, he wanted… He didn’t know. But he went to the door all the same. 

“I thought you were gone,” Loki said simply, standing aside to let Thor enter. 

“I do not scare so easily,” Thor admitted with the ghost of a grin Loki once found charming, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone. 

Loki acknowledged it with a small nod, but then fell silent. His body had cried out for this meeting, but he found himself at a loss. He was confused by Thor’s presence; he had promised war and he intended to fulfil that vow but Thrym’s words had sown discord in his plans. He felt desperate and despairing, and the sight of Thor made it all so much worse. 

Thor broke the silence eventually.

“I searched for you,” Thor spoke softly. 

“In vain,” Loki murmured in reply. “None could have found me.” 

“I wanted to,” Thor replied gently. 

Loki stayed silent. 

“Loki, please,” Thor pleaded. “You do not know what seeing you again means to me. What hearing you lived meant, the joy I felt. Before you butchered one of my people and threatened war against my realm.” 

It was impossible to remember, when he was out of the glow of Thor’s presence, how much of a temptation he truly was. Loki’s rage, unabated for years, had not faded at all since they parted. But Thor’s presence, his unavoidable _presence_ made Loki want to reach for forgiveness, to throw himself in Thor’s arms and find happiness again. 

It was a temptation he had to resist, and so he tried to retreat to firmer ground. 

“The Aesir have slaughtered Jotun for millennia,” Loki declared. 

“Loki, you cannot…” Thor began, but Loki whirled and, with a hand to the god’s throat shoved him roughly against the icy wall. 

“No, no _Asgardian,”_ Loki sneered, teeth bared and fist tight. “You do not have the right to tell me what I _cannot_ do.” 

“I have every right,” Thor grit out somehow, voice strangled and quiet after forcing it’s way past Loki’s grip. “You cannot hate me this much. I mourned you., Loki I _missed_ you.” 

“That means nothing,” Loki hissed. “Just like everything else that falls from your worthless mouth.” 

“It was not I who left!” Thor struggled, trying to throw himself off the wall but Loki held fast. 

“You gave me little choice,” Loki spat back. 

“I thought you dead, Loki _please,”_ Thor was begging, Loki realised, and released his grip in surprise. 

Thor hunched over, clutching his throat as he tried to rub some feeling back into the abused flesh. 

“I missed you,” Thor croaked. 

“Not enough,” Loki backed away. “I want you gone. You were a fool to come.” 

“There is more here than just you and I,” Thor protested, standing tall once more. “We are at the brink of war.” 

“You truly think _you_ can prevent this war?” Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You are the _cause_ of this war.” 

“What?” Thor frowned, stepping forward before stilling when Loki snarled at him. 

“Did you think showing yourself here, in front of me, in _my home, my kingdom,_ would turn the tide? Time has not gifted you wisdom, I see,” Loki smirked cruelly. 

“Home? Don’t pretend with me, Loki. You loath it here, you always did,” Thor replied. 

Loki stared at him for a few moments. 

“You seem to be operating under a fatal misapprehension, _Odinson,”_ Loki spat hatred from his tongue. “I am no longer your reluctant ally, or your verbal sparring partner, or anything else we once were. Do not presume to tell me what I loath. _You do not know me,_ and the only thing in all the realms I truly cannot bear is you. Now _leave_ while I still allow it.” 

“Loki,” Thor began brokenly, but Loki had no interest in hearing what else the god had to say. 

He shoved at the god roughly, trying to force him from Loki’s chambers. But Thor was not so easily dissuaded. He stood his ground, face set and coloured with a heartbreak that was woundingly familiar to Loki. 

“Loki, you must…” Thor stopped abruptly at the glare Loki threw his way, clearing his throat before muttering a brief apology and changing tact. “Please, I’m begging you. Come to Asgard with me. It’s not safe for you here.” 

“Not safe? You treat me like a child, as you ever did,” Loki scoffed angrily. 

“They will turn on you, Loki, you know they will.” 

“Stop telling me things I already know,” Loki replied, Thrym’s warning echoing in his mind. 

“You know? You wish to die then?” 

“I will not die, you fool.” 

“They will…” 

_“I know what they will do!_ Oh Thor you are arrogant,” Loki screamed. “I know they will rip me to shreds the moment I am no longer useful to them, and they will relish it. You think I desire to be here, amongst these creatures who hate me so? I can hear the bile they spew when they think they’re out of earshot, I can smell their contempt. But I need an army, Odinson.” 

“Then you _do_ wish to die. You would sacrifice your life for this?” Thor asked grimly. 

“For a chance to lay waste to all that you love? In a second,” Loki snarled. 

“This is about me,” Thor said. “Then inflict these wounds upon me, direct this anger at me. Not at my people, and not at yourself, Loki.” 

“At myself?” Loki spluttered. 

“A war is suicide and you know it,” Thor said. 

“A war is _inevitable,”_ Loki hissed back, feeling his tenuous grasp on his anger and hurt slip from his fingers. “But if you want me to wound you, I will.” 

“I want you to find peace,” Thor retorted. 

“Stop, stop!” Loki screamed. “I cannot stand it, I cannot! This must end.” 

“Then end it, if that is what you truly want,” Thor replied. 

“I want your blood to stain the ground,” Loki drew his blade from the air as he had when he slaughtered his father. 

“I will not fight you, Loki,” Thor intoned, face drawn. 

“You will have little choice,” Loki grinned, striking forward with an obvious feint Thor dodged but did not respond to. 

“I love you still. I never stopped. And I have been sorry every day since I last saw you.” 

“Enough lies,” Loki raised his hand, the edge of his sword catching the light. 

“Can you truly live with my blood on your hands?” Thor pleaded gently, so gently now when before he was all roughness. 

“I have no intention of touching your filthy blood,” Loki sneered, off balance and terrified. 

“I know you can do better than this, Loki. This is not truly what you want.” 

“Do not tell me what I want! You do not know!” Loki screamed, thrusting forward unthinking, just needing Thor to _stop._

“I do. I do. I know you, and I love you as…” 

Bubbles of blood burst from Thor’s lips and stained his beard when Loki’s blade drove deep into Thor’s belly. The blond god’s lips kept moving, trying to finish his sentence but no sound emanated from his throat. Loki twisted the blade, and Thor cried out, falling forward into Loki. 

Loki let Thor fall from his arms and onto the icy floor. Blood pooled around him quickly, staining the pristine white. Loki stood paralysed, trying to quell the rising tide of nausea that threatened to choke him. 

“I…” he began, but the words of righteous anger he had envisioned spitting at Thor were ash on his tongue. 

He had dreamt of this moment so long, clung to it for sanity while he had plotted his return. But the sight of Thor brought so low was poison. There was no joy to be had, no satisfaction to be taken. Thor lay dying upon Loki’s floor 

Loki knelt, reaching out unsurely to cup his hand around Thor’s cheek, but he drew back sharply when he felt how _cold_ Thor was. The warmth, that irrepressible, unfathomable warmth that had always seemed purely Thor’s, was fading. Seeping out through Thor’s wound, through the blood that was still pumping sluggishly out across the floor. The frozen ground Thor had fallen upon was leeching it, stealing it. Loki could feel it wouldn’t be long before Thor was cold as the ice, cold as Loki himself. 

Staring down at the god he had vowed to destroy, he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. This was no longer what he wanted, if it ever had been at all. Loki bent closer and ghosted a kiss across the fallen god’s lips. 

“Curse you, Thor,” Loki wept as the golden prince lay bleeding. “Curse you.” 

Thor lay unmoving, his eyes closed. Loki could feel it. Thor’s life was fleeing his body. Soon there would only be meat. Loki stared down at that face, that face he had loved and cursed, that face that had never left him through his madness, his exile, his return. He had seconds, he knew that, and he had a choice. 

When he reached for his seiðr it was Thrym’s words he remembered. He resolved his pride wouldn’t cost him Thor. 

Knitting organs and muscles and skin was a much greater task than slicing through them. The work of a single second took hours to mend, each miniscule tear taking more of Loki’s energy. Slowly though, Loki felt Thor begin to heal, felt the god’s own body responding, taking over from Loki as it sought to make Thor whole again. 

The sound of Thor’s choking, gasping breaths were the sweetest sound Loki had ever heard. With a desperation he had never known himself capable of Loki threw himself on Thor’s chest weeping freely as he listened to that heartbeat and counted those breaths. 

“Loki,” Thor breathed. “What…” 

“Thor, Thor,” was all Loki could choke out, running his hands across Thor’s body searching for an injury he had healed. “Thor.” 

“Oh, Loki,” Thor sounded chiding and all Loki could do was wonder at his lack of anger. 

Loki clung to Thor for what felt like hours, unable to loosen his grip for fear he was dreaming. The god beneath him barely moved, save for the steady hand that rubbed at Loki’s back. Loki shuddered at the warmth that had returned. 

“I did not mean it,” Loki broke the silence, cringing even as he spoke. 

If Thor demanded his life, he would give it gladly. He no longer deserved to call it his own, but he wanted to make amends beforehand. 

“I know you didn’t,” Thor said simply. 

Loki huffed in disbelief. 

“Is that all you have to say?” he asked. 

“What would you like me to say?” Thor replied mildly. 

“You…” Loki began incredulously. “I _killed_ you. You must…” 

“You _saved_ me,” Thor insisted, tightening his grip on Loki as he spoke. “And I ‘must’ do nothing.” 

“I should be punished,” Loki whispered, still struggling to understand. 

“You will punish yourself worse than I could ever hope to,” Thor replied quietly. 

The wave of self loathing that came over Loki at that made Thor’s words ring true. He buried his face in Thor’s chest and did not try to stem the rising tide of tears he felt. 

“Thor, Thor,” Loki sobbed nonsensically. 

There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to express, but all he could do was babble Thor’s name and sob. 

“Loki. Loki, we must leave,” Thor sounded tired, and Loki only wept harder. 

“Loki,” Thor tried again. “Come with me. Please. There is nothing here for you.” 

“I have nothing else,” Loki sobbed. 

“That is a lie, and you know it,” Thor chided. 

“I am sorry, Thor, I am so sorry,” Loki’s body convulsed with the power of his sobs as he buried his face in Thor’s neck. 

“I forgive you, Loki I will always forgive you,” Thor whispered back. “We have both made mistakes.” 

“They do not compare,” Loki scoffed, unwilling to let Thor forgive so much so easily. 

“It is past, Loki. Let it go. Let it all go,” Thor pleaded gently. 

_Let it go._ Loki only hoped he could. 

* * *

“Will that be all, your highness?” the maid curtsied and blushed prettily. 

Loki was tempted to shed the invisibility he had drawn around himself like a cloak just to see the girl scream, but he restrained himself. Thor nodded disinterestedly and waved the girl away impatiently. Loki smiled, preening to himself. When she was gone, the door closed and locked behind her, Thor turned. With a frown he studied the air close to where Loki stood, focusing and unfocusing his eyes before Loki took pity on him and reached out to brush his fingertips. 

“How do you hide yourself from them so well?” Thor smiled, fingers trailing across Loki’s leather-clad flank he couldn’t see, could only feel. 

“I have gifts you’ve never imagined,” Loki’s grin was the first thing to appear, slicing through the air as the rest of his form misted into view. 

“There’s no question of that,” Thor agreed as he pressed a kiss to a spot of skin on Loki’s neck Thor was always powerless to resist. 

“You smell of… I don’t know,” Thor murmured. 

“Hmm,” Loki smiled agreeably. “I smell of Earth. Do you know that’s what they call it? The Midgardians?” 

“Foolish,” Thor snorted. 

“Not all the creatures of the Nine Realms can be as wise as you, oh mighty Thor,” Loki mocked, nuzzling his nose under Thor’s chin. 

“You are cruel to tease me so,” Thor pouted. “Your sharp tongue wounds me.” 

“I thought you liked my tongue?” Loki asked breathily. 

“Hmm,” was all Thor replied when Loki ran the tip of his tongue delicately across Thor’s pulse, feeling it flutter against him. 

Loki had come to Thor only once in the pale form he used on Midgard. The idea had struck him when he had seen how the mortals reacted to him; how beautiful they thought him, how the more bold ones would trail their fingers across his skin and marvel at how perfectly white it was. It had been soon, too soon, after Thor’s almost-death and Loki was still plagued with guilt and self-loathing. 

He had thought to give Thor a gift, to be lithe and pale and lovely for the god he had nearly killed. When he had appeared to Thor, though, the Asgardian had seemed bemused. He still kissed Loki the same, touched him the same, made love to him the same. Loki had cried that night, unsure how to feel. He had been convinced some part of Thor hated his hard, cold, blue skin. Had been convinced Thor would prefer prettier packaging. 

But he didn’t. Thor’s whispered praise was the same as ever. He uttered no flattery he hadn’t already murmured into Loki’s skin. Loki hadn’t understood then, and he still didn’t. He’d been unable to explain what Thor’s disinterest in that form had meant, but Loki had stayed for days afterwards, luxuriating in Thor’s presence, barely feeling the prickling need to _move_ that usually drove him from their bed. 

“Is that what you want?” Loki whispered, shaking off his memories. “My tongue?” 

“Hmm,” Thor groaned, seizing Loki close to him and rutting his hips harshly against him. “No. Tonight I want more than your tongue.” 

“Thor!” Loki gasped when the blond dug his teeth harshly into the hollow beneath his collarbone. 

His blood already pounding with need, Loki pulled and tugged at Thor’s armour, grunting with frustration when straps took too long to give. 

“Impatient tonight, are we?” Thor sounded amused, but he broke off with a curse when Loki ground the heel of his hand against the straining bulge in Thor’s smallclothes. 

“I am not the only one,” Loki grinned, and with a growl Thor threw him on the bed. 

Loki laughed, delighting in Thor’s need. He loved when Thor was wild, when he could barely restrain himself. He moaned when Thor seized his wrists and pushed them tightly down against the bed, but he wasn’t ready to give up so easily. Grinning, Loki twisted his wrists sharply, sending Thor sprawling across him and breaking the god’s grip. He shoved his foot roughly against Thor’s chest and forced him back onto his knees, holding him there for a few moments to be sure Thor understood. 

Thor knelt obediently, naked and flushed, sweat dancing across his skin as he looked down at Loki below him. Smirking, Loki made a show of himself, spreading his legs and fucking his hips up into empty air. Thor panted, reaching down to tug sharply at his balls as Loki rolled his muscles carefully, relishing the look in Thor’s eyes each time he moved. 

“Show me,” Thor pleaded, voice low and begging and just how Loki liked it. 

His body _thrummed_ when Thor begged for anything, but for this he felt as though his skin was on fire. Thor loved to watch, and Loki loved to indulge him. The feeling of being wanted, the thought that he could drive Thor to distraction with desire just by sight sent a feeling of indescribable power through Loki. 

There was always more to discover. Thor’s body was an endless expanse of skin that begged to be touched, to be explored. 

“You want to see?” Loki teased, trailing his hand lightly down his torso, plucking at his nipples to see Thor lick his lips. 

“Always,” Thor groaned in reply. 

Loki grinned and halted his teasing, seizing upon the erection that strained from his lap. 

“This?” he breathed, letting his eyes fall closed as he stroked himself slowly, base to tip. 

He smiled without opening his eyes to hear Thor’s answering moan. He would never tire of this. He kept his eyes closed as he waited for Thor to lose control, to stop looking and start touching. When the god finally fell upon him, hands and mouth and cock, Loki could not have waited another second. 

* * *

“You don’t have to hide, you know,” Thor said seriously. 

Loki rolled his eyes, charmed this time at Thor’s wide-eyed optimism. Thor was always at his most naïve and most earnest after they made love. Something about being inside Loki made him soft and gentle, made him declare love and devotion and a thousand other things Loki scoffed at. 

“Of course, Thor. The truant king of Jotunheim in the palace would be welcomed with open arms,” Loki snorted. 

“Hmm, they would love you if I commanded them to,” Thor declared sleepily, tightening his arms and drawing Loki closer into his warmth. 

There was nothing Loki could say to that except to laugh and turn a little away from Thor’s embrace. 

He could still never be sure when Thor’s blind optimism and sentimental declarations would charm and when they would chafe. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it, and Thor didn’t seem to care either way. Loki’s moods had no effect on the golden prince. Thor was Thor whether his endearments were met with smiles or scorn. 

Loki stared out Thor’s open window to the starry night beyond. He could never stay, that he knew, but some nights he longed for a different nature. Some nights he would stay up and watch Thor sleep and wish all he wanted was to stay by his side. But those thoughts always faded away, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly. Some visits Loki would spend days in Asgard, even disguising himself so he could venture beyond Thor’s chambers and beyond the city walls. Others he would be gone before the sun rose. 

“I worry for you,” Thor whispered. 

“Do not trouble yourself. You realise I survived centuries without your tender care, yes?” 

Thor’s laughter rumbled through Loki’s chest. 

“You were surely not so foolhardy then, though?” 

“I…” Loki began, but he was cut off by the hard press of Thor’s lips against his own. 

“Be careful, is all,” Thor’s lips moved softly against his cheek and Loki spared him a smile. 

“Always,” Loki replied earnestly. 

He turned a little so he could tuck his head neatly under Thor’s chin, breathing deeply his lover’s scent. Sleep came easily that night. 

* * *

Loki awakened to the warmth of Thor’s mouth between his legs, the god’s clever tongue drawing him steadily from sleep and into the soft morning light. 

“Thor,” Loki sighed, utterly contented as he always was when Thor woke him in similar fashion. 

He let himself get lost in the sensation, closing his eyes to block out everything but Thor around him. Long minutes later, after they had both reached their climax, Loki lay back against the pillows and regarded the ceiling. Thor shuffled up the bed to lay his head gently on Loki’s shoulder, the golden strands of his hair tickling softly. 

“Stay,” Thor whispered, breath a caress on Loki’s throat. “Please, stay.” 

“As I say every time, Thor, I cannot,” Loki replied, languid and loose after their lovemaking. 

“I miss you when you leave me.” 

Loki allowed himself a smile at that, and pressed a dry kiss to the skin of Thor’s neck. 

“Nothing lasts forever,” Loki murmured. “But then, who would want it to?” 

“I want it to,” Thor’s voice was muffled where he pressed his face into Loki’s hair, but Loki could still hear the petulance in it. 

“You are spoilt, prince,” Loki chided. 

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Thor’s smile was wistful rather than smug. 

There were still moments like this between them, when Thor’s sincerity chafed at Loki, when his declarations of love fell flat and sounded false, but they were few and far between and always fading. 

It was far from perfect, and Loki still came sometimes itching for a fight, tearing at Thor with words or blows. Loki could never be a lover to find comfort in. His words were still barbed and his moods tempestuous. Things would never be _easy_ between he and Thor, but when they lay panting, dark red scratches littered across both of them Loki often wondered what the attraction of ‘easy’ was. 

They had endured, and even if they could never be truly mended, it didn’t matter. When he was taken by flights of fancy Loki would think their bond had been forged in a crucible and was all the stronger for it, but still sharp and hot to the touch. Whatever else they were, Loki was as close to happy as he ever had been. And he intended to enjoy it while he could. 

“Perhaps awhile longer,” Loki allowed, and didn’t even try to hide his smile when Thor’s face lit up in a grin. 

_Just a little longer,_ he thought as Thor’s arms wrapped tightly around him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That's all folks! 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's stuck with this story, and once again sorry it's taken such an abysmally long time. And thanks also to everyone who comments - every time I really do mean to reply, then I forget, then when I go back it's been 4 months and I feel like I'd look crazy replying so. I do read them and appreciate them though! Also, as with the rest of the story this chapter is unbetaed so any errors, let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge of Thor is pretty much limited to the film, and the various things I've picked up from the obscene amounts of fic I seem to be reading lately, so there are bound to be mistakes. Bear with me, or happily ignore them, or point them out. 
> 
> The name Gangr was chosen completely at random from Wikipedia's list of jötnar. Research at its best. 
> 
> The rating will be more applicable in later chapters.


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